JOHNO'PARTLETTS' 

A  TALE  OF  STRIFE  AND  COURAGE 


EDGERTON  HOVEY 


SHE   LAY   BREATHING   IN  HER  FATHER  S  ARMS. 

(See  page  293) 


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JOHN    O' 
PARTLETTS' 

A  TALE  o^1  STRIFE  AND  COURAGE 

By 

31can  Siiiitcrtnn  iHiuiry 

Illustrated  by 
Eimunli  Ij.  CSarrttt 

Olompattij  :::  iKirrrrxtti 

Xj£JtJiJLJtJiJiJlJiJtAJtAAJtJiJtJiJtJiJiJLJLJ[J[***A 

Copyright,    191S,    by 

L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 


All  rights  reserved 
First  Impression,  September,  1913 


THE  COLONIAL  PRESS 
C.  H.  SIMONDB  <k  CO.,  BOSTON,  TT.  8.  A. 


TO 

2f.  £•  IE.,  Uettina,  ani  CopcIanK 

AN  INITIAL  AUDIENCE  OF  THREE  IN  THE   GREY  HOUSE 
ON  THE  HILL 


2136136   ' 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTEIl  PAGE 

I.  THE  COMING  OF  JIM  .....  1 

II.  PARTLETTSVILLE 11 

III.  SOME  MORE  ABOUT  JIM      ....  22 

IV.  "  GIVE  A  DOG  A  BAD  NAME  —  "    .       .  32 
V.  "  —  AND  HANG  HIM          ....  47 

VI.  JIM  GOES  TO  PARTLETTS'  ....  57 

VII.  JOHN 80 

VIII.  JOHN  GOES  TO  PARTLETTS'       .       .       .  103 

IX.  A  PLAN  Is  FRUSTRATED     ....  122 

X.  A  LIGHT  GOES  OUT  IN  THE  VALLEY      .  133 

XL  SPRING 141 

XII.  THE  LOSING  OF  JIM    .       .       .       .      .  147 

XIII.  JIM  PROVES  A  PROBLEM     .       .       ,      .  156 

XIV.  THE  RETURN  OF  JIM 165 

XV.  PARTLETTS' 177 

XVI.  THE  RED  BRAND  AT  PARTLETTS'     .       .  185 

XVII.  CLERICAL  AND  OTHERWISE        .       .       .  203 

XVIII.  DEACON  SAWREY  EXPLAINS      .      .      .  216 

XIX.  WINTER 282 

XX.  JOHN  o'  PARTLETTS'  IN  THE  DARK  VAL- 
LEY        245 

XXI.  A  GLIMPSE  OF  SPRING       ....  259 

XXII.  THE  STORM 267 

XXIIL  THE  SEARCH 275 

XXIV.  THE  RESCUE 283 

XXV.  PARTLETTS'  AT  PEACE        .  301 


FAQB 

"  SHE  LAY  BREATHING  IN  HER  FATHER'S  ARMS."  (See 

page  293) Frontispiece 

"  SHE  OPENED  HER  HAND  AND  SHOWED  A  LONG, 

CROOKED  THORN" 98 

"  BROUGHT  HER  CHAIR  OUT  ON  HER  LITTLE  PIAZZA 

AND  SAT  THERE  ROCKING  AND  GOSSIPING  "      .    141 

"  '  ONE  MORE  STROKE,  OLD  MAN!   BRING  HER  IN  I  '"    293 


JOHN  0'  PARTLETTS* 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   COMING   OF   JIM 

HE  was  not  the  ' '  pertest ' '  little  nigger  in 
the  world,  —  if  he  had  been  it  would  have 
been  better  for  him,  for,  in  that  case,  no 
doubt  he  would  have  been  a  popular  member 
of  the  community.  That  was  what  the  com- 
munity was  looking  for,  a  real  jollification 
little  nigger ;  one  of  the  kind  that  can  chuckle 
all  the  time,  turn  handsprings,  make  funny 
sayings,  and  between  whiles  turn  off  work  as 
easily  as  the  handsprings,  —  one  of  the  kind 
that  one  sometimes  reads  about  in  books. 

But  Jim  had  never  been  of  the  "  peart  " 
order,  not  even  at  home  on  the  old  planta- 
tion, not  even  among  the  other  little  picka- 

1 


John  o'  Partletts' 


ninnies,  where  there  was  liveliness  and  game- 
making  a-plenty.  He  had  always  sat  apart, 
always  looked  dreamy.  But  there  no  one 
noticed  or  paid  any  attention;  he  was  one 
among  scores  of  pickaninnies.  Lost  in  the 
crowd  his  insignificant  little  person  passed 
unremarked. 

But  here  he  stood  alone,  the  only  little 
black  boy,  far  or  near;  people  even  came  a 
distance  to  see  him.  He  lived  in  an  atmos- 
phere of  publicity  and  undue  prominence 
which  was  strange  to  the  last  degree.  Some- 
times he  was  frightened,  —  he  wanted  to  run 
and  hide. 

Anyhow,  there  was  nothing  in  the  world 
that  he  cared  for  now,  since  his  Grand- 
mammy  died,  but  to  go  off  by  himself  some- 
where, fold  his  hands,  and  look  up  at  the  blue 
sky  —  when  there  was  any  blue  in  the  sky 
—  and  dream.  Look  moony  —  as  the  neigh- 
bors called  it. 

And  at  such  times  he  could  see  as  plain  as 
day,  just  on  the  outskirts  of  a  great  orange 
grove  in  Florida,  a  little  cabin  that  he  knew 


The  Coming  of  Jim 


well.  Looming  in  the  distance  he  could  see 
a  big,  big  white  house.  Marse  Desverney'a 
house,  where  his  Pa  worked  as  butler,  and 
the  little  Desverney  children  racing  over  the 
piazza  in  their  white  dresses,  with  gold 
chains  around  their  necks;  he  knew  they 
were  "  sp'ilt  es  pizen,"  for  their  old  nurse 
used  to  say  so  when  she  came  out  for  a  chat 
at  the  quarters:  "  Bad  an'  sp'ilt  es  pizen; 
but  pretty!  —  an'  dat  smart  1  "  And  he 
loved  to  watch  them  with  their  bright  hair, 
their  twinkling  feet,  and  their  wonderful, 
white  faces  with  the  merry,  roguish  eyes. 
They  never  called  ' '  nigger  ' '  at  him ;  if  they 
had  called  "  nigger  "  at  every  pickaninny 
that  passed  by  they  would  have  done  nothing 
but  call  "  nigger  "  all  day  long.  If  he  was 
noticed  at  all,  it  was  usually  by  Miss  Mari- 
etta, who  would  push  her  glowing,  mischie- 
vous face  —  which  was  as  bright-eyed  as 
some  bird's  —  between  the  railings,  and  call 
out  in  her  merry,  friendly  voice :  * '  Hello, 
little  Jim,  is  that  you!  " 
And  he  could  see,  too,  the  great  orange 


John  o'  Partletts' 


grove  —  Marse  Desverney's  great  grove  — 
all  shining  and  glittering;  that  was  before 
the  big  "  friz  "  came,  and  every  tree  stood 
up  round  and  grand  against  the  blue,  blue 
sky;  and  he  could  see  the  small,  waxy  blos- 
soms, and  the  fat,  round  buds;  he  could 
smell  theml  And  he  could  see  the  ripening 
fruit,  great  balls  of  green,  streaked  and  mot- 
tled with  brightest  yellow,  hanging  in  heavy 
clusters  on  the  slow-waving,  perfumed 
boughs.  And  he  seemed  to  hear  the  darkeys 
as  they  "  hand  packed  de  oranges,"  ranged 
up  along  the  fence  railings,  dropping  the  big 
fruit  softly  into  the  clean  crates,  swaying 
slightly  with  the  motion  and  singing,  —  now 
those  on  that  side  of  the  big  gate : 

"  Tall  es  a  lily,  an'  es  white  es  milk  — 
Who  dat  a-callin'? 

Fair  es  de  cotton-weed,  an'  sof  es  silk, 
Who  dat  a-callin'  me?  " 

And  those  on  the  other  side  of  the  big  gate, 
taking  up  the  melody  in  deep,  melodious 
voices : 


The  Coming  of  Jim 


"  Who  dat  a-callin'? 
Who  dat  a-callin'? 
Who  dat  a-callin'  me? 
Ol;  Mis'  a-callin'! 
OF  Mis'  a-callin'! 
Over  'cross  Jordan,  callin*  me! " 

Then  the  soft,  regnlar  drop,  drop  of  the 
fruit,  the  deep,  hearty  guffaws,  the  barking 
of  dogs  round  the  cabin  doors,  the  clear 
voices  of  the  white  children  up  at  the  big 
house,  the  shrill,  half  wild  calls  of  the  pick- 
aninnies as  they  rushed  to  and  fro,  —  and, 
over  all,  the  blue,  blue  sky,  and  the  smell  of 
the  orange  blossoms,  so  sweet,  so  strong, 
that  it  seemed  to  go  through,  through,  to  the 
very  heart ! 

Then  —  some  sudden  noise,  and  his  vision 
was  gone !  And  when  he  turned  his  eyes  to 
the  bleak,  bare  road  and  fields  about  him, 
and  to  the  little  huddle  of  small,  grey  houses 
which  crouched  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and 
constituted  the  town  of  Partlettsville,  there 
was  no  light  of  enthusiasm  in  them;  indeed, 
there  was  a  look  of  isolation  and  weari- 


6  John  o'  Partletts' 

ness,  yes,  and  even  of  downright  unhap- 
piness ! 

And  this  was  what  Partlettsville  had 
against  Jim.  He  was  unhappy.  And  what 
right  had  any  one  to  be  unhappy,  to  look 
downhearted  and  lonesome  in  such  a  com- 
munity? A  perfectly  self-respecting,  early- 
to-bed  and  early-to-rise,  capable,  punctual, 
walk-along- the-narrow-road  community!  It 
would  have  been  outrageous  and  impertinent 
for  anyone  to  set  himself  up  so;  but  when 
it  came  to  a  nigger!  Partlettsville  felt,  but 
did  not  openly  express  its  indignation.  Kitty 
Merryweather,  however,  freely  gave  tongue. 

"  There's  nothin'  to  them  black  people  at 
bottom,  but  badness  and  sneakiness!  The 
old  woman  was  the  only  one  I  ever  see  that 
I  could  tolerate.  They're  thieves  an'  liars, 
the  pack  o'  them!  " 

Kitty  might  have  added  that  the  only 
black  people  she  had  ever  seen  in  her  life 
were  Jim  and  his  Grandmammy.  She  and 
the  old  woman  had  been  on  amicable  terms 
up  to  the  time  of  the  latter 's  death.  This 


The  Coming  of  Jim 


had  occurred  five  months  before;  just  as  a 
late,  dragging  Spring  came  to  the  cold  little 
town  the  old  darkey  passed  away.  She  had 
lived  and  worked  here  during  the  long  Win- 
ter, but  she  was  not  to  see  the  fruit  orchards 
in  bloom,  of  which  she  had  heard  much. 

She  and  Jim  had  come  the  Fall  before, 
strangers  to  a  strange  place,  quite  by  acci- 
dent, and  after  the  following  manner : 

After  the  "  great  friz  "  came  to  Marse 
Desverney's  orchard,  things  did  not  go  on 
so  easily;  more  than  two-thirds  of  the  finest 
trees  died;  since  the  war  money  was  not 
a-plenty  with  Marse  Desverney,  and  he  could 
not  replant  rapidly.  Thus  many  hands  that 
had  been  very  busy  were  idle,  and  then,  of 
course,  as  night  follows  day,  money  became 
scarce.  To  crown  all  the  woes  of  that  winter, 
"  OP  yaller  Jim,"  little  Jim's  father,  Marse 
Desverney's  butler,  took  sick,  "  wid  de  ex- 
tremity ob  de  cold,"  and  died.  Then  it  was 
that  Jim's  old  Grandmammy,  who  had  al- 
ways been  of  a  restless  and  independent 
nature,  and  who  had  always  a  deep  wish 


8  John  o'  Partletts' 

within  her  to  see  de  worl',  was  enticed  by 
what  she  heard  of  the  fine  sights  and  grand 
ways  in  other  parts  of  the  country,  —  for, 
the  war  lately  over,  strangers  had  already 
begun  to  come  into  Florida,  and  before  any 
one  realized  what  she  was  about,  almost 
before  she  knew  it  herself,  she  had  gathered 
the  belongings  of  herself  and  little  grandson 
and  was  travelling  North. 

Useless  to  tell  how  she  journeyed.  Chance 
directed  her,  and,  before  long,  she  came  to 
one  of  the  great  Northern  cities,  —  the  very 
greatest,  I  believe,  —  and  there  went  into 
service.  But  not  for  nothing  had  she  been 
bred  in  the  country,  and  soon  a  longing  for 
the  green  things  came  over  her.  She  ' '  hired 
out  "  to  service  in  the  suburbs.  But  here, 
somehow,  whether  it  was  true  or  not,  she 
took  up  the  idea  that  those  about  her 
"  hadn't  no  fancy  fV  seein'  Jim  around." 
All  the  little  boy  knew  was,  that  one  day  she 
said  to  him:  "  Come  'long,  honey,  we'se 
gwine  light  out  from  here."  And  so  they 
did. 


The  Coming  of  Jim  9 

This  happened  in  September,  when  the 
beautiful  drowsy,  hazy  Indian  summer  that 
comes  to  the  North  lay  over  the  land.  It  was 
warm,  the  golden-rod  was  in  bloom,  the  old 
woman  had  some  money  in  her  bag,  —  her 
wages,  "an'  good  wages  fo'  true!  "  And 
she  was  happy.  They  drifted  along  to  the 
tune  of:  "  Now  we  come  dis  fur,  honey,  an' 
seem'  how  things  goes,  I  guess  we'll  work 
back  South." 

The  towns  were  close  together.  They 
would  walk  from  one  town  to  the  next.  Peo- 
ple were  kind,  sometimes  food  and  lodging 
were  given,  sometimes  the  old  woman  worked 
in  payment.  And  many  a  lift  they  received 
along  the  high  road. 

"Which  direction  are  you  going  in?" 
some  kind-hearted  driver  would  ask  them. 
"  Are  you  going  to  Abbottsville,  or  to  St. 
John's?  " 

"  Oh,  we'se  jes'  gwine  'long,"  the  old 
darkey  would  reply  unconcernedly.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  how  should  she  know  one 
town  from  another!  She  did  not  know  which 


10  John  o'  Partletts' 

direction  was  north  and  which  south ;  doubt- 
less she  could  scarcely  have  told  which  state 
in  the  Union  she  was  in.  Space  meant  noth- 
ing to  her,  —  she  had  no  comprehension  of 
distances.  She  had  a  vague  idea  that  they'd 
"  git  South  before  the  hard  fros*  ketch 
*em."  And  that  was  about  all. 

And  thus  it  happened  that  they  drifted 
into  Partlettsville  toward  the  middle  of  Oc- 
tober. And  here  they  stayed,  because  here 
"  de  hard  fros'  ketch  'em." 


CHAPTER  II 

PABTLETTSVILLE 

As  Jim's  Grandmammy  remarked:  "  Et 
seem  like  de  hard  fros'  ketch  yo'  mighty 
quick  in  dis  'ere  part  ob  de  worl '. ' '  She  saw 
the  necessity  of  abiding,  and  settled  down 
with  what  grace  she  could,  to  winter  it  in 
Partlettsville. 

Partlettsville,  constricted,  small  and  poor, 
like  a  narrow  soul  in  a  lean  body,  had  looked 
out  from  its  refuge  under  the  hill  for  years 
and  seen  the  rest  of  the  world  go  forward. 
The  railroad  went  to  other  towns,  never  to 
Partlettsville.  Other  towns  grew,  new  in- 
dustries came  to  them,  new  houses  were 
built,  new  faces  seen;  but  in  Partlettsville, 
always  the  same  faces,  the  same  houses,  the 
same  ways.  Other  towns  jeered  at  it,  they 
called  it  "  the  last  place,"  the  "  jumping  off 
place."  Partlettsville  knew  this  well,  and  it 

11 


12  John  o'  Partletts' 

was  very,  very  sore.  Thus  it  happened  that 
it  did  not  turn  a  cheerful  face  to  the  rest  of 
the  world.  But  it  made  up  for  the  poor  opin- 
ion of  others  by  assuming  a  very  self-satis- 
fied and  complacent  expression  of  its  own. 

It  was  rather  a  mixed-up  community  any- 
how. It  seemed  that  several  of  the  nations 
of  the  earth  had  sent  a  representative  to  this 
out-of-the-way  little  place,  —  and,  let  it  be 
confessed  in  a  whisper,  not  of  their  best. 

There  was  the  French  shoemaker,  sly  and 
greedy.  There  was  Kitty  Merryweather,  a 
cockney,  born  and  bred,  with  a  long  tongue 
and  a  heavy  hand,  when  she  had  the  chance 
to  use  it,  as  little  Jim  had  lately  come  to 
know.  There  were  the  Dutch  butcher  and 
his  son,  marvellously  tricky  and  clever  at 
under-weighing.  There  was  Louisa  Myers, 
the  German  proprietress  of  the  thread  and 
needle  store,  with  her  florid  face,  the  picture 
of  affability,  but  with  the  temper  to  be  reck- 
oned with.  And  there  was  Mr.  Carruthers, 
the  parson,  a  tall,  lean  Scotchman,  with  black 
beard,  and  intense  smouldering  eyes,  who 


Partlettsville  13 


drove  and  threatened  his  flock,  preached 
much  about  hell  and  damnation,  and  seemed 
to  take  little  account  of  heaven. 

It  does  not  belong  to  this  story  to  surmise 
how  they  all  came  here.  Let  it  be  supposed 
they  drifted  here  as  did  little  Jim  and  his 
Grandmammy.  And  there  were  others,  the 
established  natives  of  the  place,  whose  fore- 
fathers had  been  the  founders  of  Partletts- 
ville. They  had  built  it,  these  forefathers, 
on  the  stoniest,  barest  bit  of  land  in  all  the 
country  round,  exposed  to  the  bitter  north 
winds,  built  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  hill,  the 
great  hill  of  Partletts',  which  seemed  to  ab- 
sorb all  the  sunlight  and  cast  its  shadow  over 
the  little  town.  It  stood  out  rocky,  unbeau- 
tiful,  uncompromising,  its  roads  lined  by  a 
row  of  willow  trees,  whipped  and  topped, 
and  bent  down  like  old  men.  And,  if  there 
is  any  truth  in  the  belief  that  surroundings 
have  aught  to  do  with  the  growing  and  ex- 
panding of  souls,  then  the  very  look  of  their 
town  might  surely  form  some  excuse  for  the 
inhabitants  of  Partlettsville  if  any  among 


14  John  o'  Partletts' 

them  lacked  somewhat  of  a  sense  of  beauty, 
and  of  sympathy,  and  of  a  striving  for  things 
beyond,  inspired  and  higher. 

It  did  not  take  little  Jim's  acute  old  Grand- 
mammy  long  to  perceive  that  the  people 
about  her  were  not  "  ob  de  cheerfules'  or 
ob  de  mos'  obligin*  character."  However, 
she  was  a  cheerful  soul  herself,  this  old  plan- 
tation darkey,  and,  like  many  of  her  kind, 
had  the  great  gift  of  philosophically  taking 
the  world  as  she  found  it. 

It  came  about  that  she  and  Jim  settled 
down  in  an  empty  room  in  a  cottage  occupied 
by  Kitty  Merryweather  and  her  two  children. 
She  found  work  by  the  day,  and  paid  her 
rent. 

Darkeys  have  a  marvellous  faculty  for  get- 
ting the  things  that  they  want  around  them. 
It  is  true  that  they  want  few  things,  and 
know  well  what  those  things  are.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  funniest  looking  little  second- 
hand cook  stove  was  set  up  and  merrily  burn- 
ing, red  hot,  night  and  day ;  a  tin  can  graced 


Partlettsville  15 


with  a  small  sprig  of  mint,  and  a  crooked 
geranium,  appeared  in  the  window;  a  red 
cotton  cloth  decorated  the  rickety  table ;  and 
two  very  sky-blue  vases,  filled  tight  with 
bunches  of  cat-tails,  stood  on  the  mantel. 
The  old  boards  of  the  floor,  after  a  few  scrub- 
bings,  came  out  white,  and  a  piece  of  bright 
red  carpet  was  laid  over  them.  There  was  a 
bench  to  sit  on,  and  a  mattress  to  spread 
down  at  night,  with  a  yellow  comforter ;  and 
a  glass  lamp,  with  a  grand  scarlet  paper 
shade.  The  cooking  utensils  hung  upon  the 
wall  against  a  piece  of  bright  tin;  and  on 
a  shelf  stood  a  wooden  water  bucket,  and  a 
gourd. 

Just  how  these  things  were  got  together, 
with  almost  magic  speed,  could  hardly  be 
told.  They  were  collected  by  a  sure  hand, 
the  hand  of  one  who  knew  perfectly  and  in- 
stinctively what,  in  her  eyes  at  least,  was 
pertaining  to  the  beauty  and  comfort  of 
home. 

And  so  this  little  room  was  home.  Once 
shut  out  the  world  directly  outside,  and  it 


16  John  o'  Partletts' 

would  have  passed  for  a  room  in  almost 
any  plantation  cabin  hundreds  of  miles  away 
in  the  South. 

Kitty  Merryweather  had  no  fancy  for  any 
one  who  "  came  in  on  her  ground,"  as  she 
expressed  it;  she  went  out  and  worked  by 
the  day,  this  business  was  her  ground,  and 
for  years  she  had  it  to  herself.  There  were 
those  who  went  into  regular  service,  sleeping 
and  eating  at  their  employer's,  but  to  go 
around  to  the  various  farmhouses  and  do  a 
great  day's  work  of  washing,  ironing,  and 
perhaps  house-cleaning  thrown  in,  was  Kit- 
ty's particular  vocation;  and  she  loved  it, 
she  loved  the  gossip  and  the  change  of  scene, 
and  she  justly  prided  herself  upon  the  im- 
mense amount  she  could  accomplish  in  a  day. 
11  More  a  sight  than  them  lazy  gals  h'out  in 
regular  service  can  turn  off  in  a  week!  " 
And  she  was  in  great  demand,  and  was  well 
paid. 

Now,  Jim's  Grandmammy  came  in  on  this 
very  ground,  and  it  was  expected  accordingly 
that  Kitty  would  abuse  her  up  hill  and  down 


Partlettsville  17 


dale.    But  quite  the  contrary  —  she  lived  in 
Kitty's  house,  and  on  amicable  relations. 

"  She's  just  an  old  toddlin'  thing,"  Kitty 
said  of  her  patronizingly  to  Louisa  Myers, 
when  she  ran  into  the  latter 's  store  to  buy 
eorne  stockings  for  her  Willie  and  Maggie. 
"  You  know  'ow  it  is  with  me,  Mrs.  Myers, 
no  pickin'  and  choosin',  but  just  goin'  every- 
wheres,  far  and  near,  —  out  to  Furness' 
farm,  three  miles  away,  h'an'  h'up  to  Part- 
letts'  to  work  for  ol'  Witch  Beevish!  An* 
who  but  me'd  go  that  far,  for  a  day's  work? 
Let  alone  of  bein'  h 'afraid  of  the  Witch  'er- 
self !  An'  a  proper,  rare  one  she  is,  too!  " 
Kitty  stopped  to  cackle  her  shrill  laugh,  her 
eyes  growing  brighter,  as  they  always  did 
when  her  tongue  began  wagging.  "I've 
some  bits  to  tell  you,  Mrs.  Myers,  I  'ave, 
when  I  chanct  to  get  the  time !  But  now  I've 
got  to  'ave  two  pairs  of  stockin's  for  Willie, 
an'  one  pair  for  Maggie!  —  Oh,  it's  'eart 
breakin'  the  way  them  children  keeps  me 
goin'!  Not  as  it's  their  fault,  the  best  chil- 
dren the  sun  ever  shone  on,  Willie  in  partic- 


18  John  o'  Partletts' 

ular.  'E  sits  up  at  night,  readin'  'is  cate- 
chism, Mrs.  Myers,  so's  to  'ave  it  letter  per- 
fect against  Sunday;  it's  touchin'  your  'eart 
to  see  'im!  —  But  the  holes  in  the  stockin's, 
an'  me  no  time  to  mend  'em,  save  at  night 
when  I'm  so  tired  my  bones  is  crackin';  an' 
kerosene  so  expensive  to  keep  a  light  burnin' 
late !  I  borrowed  a  pint  of  oil  only  last  night 
from  the  old  nigger  h 'upstairs.  Strange 
'ousin'  with  niggers,  eh,  ain't  it?  But  it's 
no  pick  an'  choose  with  two  children  to  keep, 
an'  potatoes  so  dear,  an'  my  Willie  so  fond 
of  butter  that  he  won't  eat  nothin'  without 
butter  spread  a  h'inch  thick!  Only  last 
night  'e  stole  'arf  a  pound  o'  butter  out  of 
my  own  safe  an'  put  it  away  on  the  h 'inside 
of  'im  before  you  could  wink  your  eyes;  — 
an'  me  an'  Maggie  without  a  scrap  to  put 
on  our  bread!  She  set  up  'er  squallin'  but  I 
tol'  'er  to  shut  'er  mouth,  for  boys  comes 
first,  and  before  gals,  in  my  country  anyhow ! 
But,  as  I  was  sayin',  the  old  nigger  upstairs, 
she's  old  and  toddlin'  and  can't  go  far  to 
work,  an'  it's  a  fiddlin'  day's  work  she  does 


Partlettsville  19 


at  best.  An'  she's  a  real  obligin'  one.  Comes 
down  pat  with  the  rent  every  Saturday  night. 
That's  more  than  you  can  say  for  some  white 
folks,  ain't  it?  Well  —  it's  not  long  those 
niggers  'd  stay  'longsides  o'  me.  if  she 
didn't!  "  And  Kitty  again  stopped  long 
enough  to  emit  her  cackle.  "  An'  polite! 
Say,  but  those  Southern  people  trained  the 
niggers  grand!  It's  a  bow,  an*  a  duck,  an' 
a  '  Howdy,  Missis!  '  every  time  she  meets 
me  in  the  hall!  An'  then,  never  meddlin' 
your  things,  an'  ready  an'  willin'  to  hand 
out  'er  own,  just  to  oblige  you  in  a  tight 
place!  An',  of  course,  it's  a  little  lift,  yo' 
know,  the  rent  comin'  in  on  a  Saturday 
night!  An'  the  little  room  was  just  standin' 
there  empty,  you  know,  doin'  nothin'!  But 
then  with  children  to  bring  up  there's  no 
pickin'  an'  choosin'  —  an'  people  should 
bear  that  in  mind!  " 

Yes,  it  was  that  bow,  and  duck,  and 
"  Howdy,  Missis!  "  that  had  partly  melted 
Kitty's  heart,  —  not  made  of  remarkably 
penetrable  stuff;  and  the  obliging  free- 


20  John  o'  Partletts' 

handedness  in  a  community  where,  Heaven 
knows,  free-handedness  was  not  common, 
had  completed  the  process.  Kitty  was  one 
who  loved  beyond  anything  to  get  something 
for  nothing.  A  few  potatoes  given  to  her 
were  sweeter  than  any  she  could  buy.  Once, 
it  is  related,  she  took  a  sick  chicken  that  a 
farmer  gave  her,  in  jest  telling  her  it  would 
make  a  fine  stew ;  prepared  it,  ate  it,  and  all 
the  family  were  made  most  ill,  but  she  after- 
wards remarked :  "No  matter,  it  tasted 
good;  an*  it  cost  us  no  thin'!  "  She  was  one 
who  found  it  blessed  to  receive. 

In  the  early  morning  she  often  went  up  to 
the  old  darkey's  door  and  asked  the  "  loan  " 
of  a  bit  of  bread  and  a  pinch  of  tea,  receiving 
these  in  generous  portion,  with  a  bit  of  bacon 
thrown  in;  "  Cause  de  chillun  mus'  have  a 
lettle  grease,  jes'  fur  to  make  de  breakfas' 
go  down  smoof,"  the  old  woman  would  say, 
and,  with  true  darkey  prodigality,  she 
thought  so  little  of  these  things  that  she  gave 
herself  no  concern  as  to  their  return.  In 
truth  they  were  a  gift,  not  a  loan;  and  to 


Partlettsville  21 


Kitty  Merryweather  such  meals  tasted  sweet 
indeed ! 

There  were  others  in  Partlettsville  who 
found  the  old  woman  of  an  obliging  sort, — 
in  fact  she  was  most  polite,  most  obliging  to 
all.  This  was  partly  due  to  genuine  good 
nature,  partly  to  natural  shrewdness,  for  the 
old  darkey  had  a  store  of  wisdom  of  her  own. 

None  but  little  Jim  realized  how  little  she 
found  Partlettsville  to  her  taste.  He  knew 
it  well  by  the  constantly  iterated  wish  for 
Spring  and  open  roads. 

"  Soon  as  de  mil'  wedder  come,  honey," 
she  would  say  in  a  whisper,  rolling  her  eyes 
at  the  closed  door,  "  we'll  get  out  from  here, 
jes'  es  quick  es  we  kin!  An'  we'll  take  de 
fus'roadtodeSouf!  " 

But  when  the  mild  weather  at  last  came 
to  Partlettsville  the  old  woman  had  already 
taken  a  different  road,  and  gone  a  longer 
journey. 


CHAPTER 

SOME    MORE   ABOUT  JIM 

AFTER  Jim's  Grandmammy  died,  and  he 
was  left  absolutely  alone  in  the  world,  it  was 
some  time  before  he  could,  even  approxi- 
mately, realize  the  breadth  and  depth  of  the 
trouble  which  had  befallen  him. 

After  they  took  her  away  and  buried  her, 
he  remained  here  in  the  little  room  where 
she  had  kept  him  and  cared  for  him,  lost  in  a 
kind  of  dumb  wonderment.  She,  the  faithful, 
was  indeed  gone !  It  seemed  impossible,  and 
occasionally  he  would  say  out  loud  in  his 
slow,  deep  voice:  "  Gamma,  wher'  es  yo'J  ' 
But  no  answer  came. 

Now,  Jim  was  eleven  years  old,  but  no  one 
would  have  thought  it.  He  was  a  very  little 
darkey,  "  wizened,"  and  dumb,  and  slow, 
and  very  sad  looking;  his  eyes  had  exactly 
the  expression  which  one  sometimes  sees  in 

22 


Some  More  About  Jim  23 

a  little  dog's  when  it  sits  off  and  gazes  at 
what  is  going  on  about  it  as  if  it  does  not 
exactly  understand. 

"  What's  ailin'  'im?  Can't  he  take  it  in 
that  his  Grandma's  dead?  "  Kitty  asked  her 
Willie,  but  Willie  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  He's  jus'  sittin'  up  there  starin',"  he 
said.  "  Mayhap  he's  waitin'  for  to  see  her 
ghost!  "  he  added  with  a  snicker. 

At  first  there  was  much  talk  of  sending 
Jim  to  an  orphan  asylum,  but  that  was  far 
away.  Then  there  was  talk  of  writing  down 
South,  but  Jim  couldn't  rightly  remember 
Marse  Desverney's  address.  And  gradually 
the  thing  drifted  over.  It  came  about  that, 
as  he  was  there  in  her  house,  and  she  had 
children  of  her  own  to  bring  up,  he  fell  into 
the  charge  of  Kitty  Merryweather.  Mr. 
Carruthers  would  have  an  overseeing  eye, 
and  make  sure  that  he  was  supplied  with 
clothes;  and  Kitty  declared  that  the  child 
could  do  a  scrap  of  work  now  and  then  for 
the  bit  he  would  eat. 

"  An'  she'll  be  gittin'  the  worth  of  his 


24  John  o'  Partletts' 

food  out  of  him!  "  was  the  general  opin- 
ion. 

Kitty  was  hopeful  on  this  point,  too.  But 
alas  for  best  laid  schemes!  Little  Jim 
proved  to  be  no  worker.  In  the  old  days,  on 
the  old  plantation,  he  had  always  been  a  puny 
mite,  and,  save  to  run  on  errands,  naught  had 
been  expected  of  him.  Now,  in  the  midst  of 
his  tribulation,  he  seemed  not  so  much  un- 
willing to  work  as  unable  to  keep  his  mind 
upon  it. 

11  'E  's  been  sp  'ilt !  ' '  Kitty  began  explain- 
ing around.  * '  I  never  see  such  a  one !  'E 's 
no  idea  of  doin'  as  he's  told,  an'  'e  can't 
remember  nothin'I  " 

"  An'  that's  a  great  way  for  her  to  be 
talkin'!"  commented  Louisa  Myers  in  her 
bland  voice,  with  a  winking  of  her  big  eyes, 
"  when  everybody  knows  there's  not  a  cree- 
tur  she'd  give  this  much  to,  without  gettin' 
a  very  proper  equivalent!  Not,"  she  added, 
"  that  I'm  sayin'  anything."  For,  like 
every  one  else,  she  had  a  dread  of  Kitty's 
tongue. 


Some  More  About  Jim  25 

But  Kitty  heard,  and  very  soon  she  was  in 
Louisa's  store.  She  bought  a  paper  of  nee- 
dles, and  on  her  way  out  paused  as  if  just 
remembering : 

"  Oh,  by  the  by,  Mis'  Myers,  I  chance'  to 
hear  you  think  that  little  black  one  I've  got 
quartered  at  my  'ouse  is  earnin'  his  wittles; 
if  you  want  to  feed  him  for  a  day  or  two, 
and  'ave  his  services  for  your  pains,  you're 
welcome,  so  far  as  I'm  concerned!  " 

Louisa  Myers  was  astonished,  and  a  bit 
taken  aback. 

"  Well,"  she  said,  in  her  slow  way,  color- 
ing a  little,  "it's  true  I've  got  a  bit  of  gar- 
dening to  do,  the  Spring  coming  on  so  fast. ' ' 

"  I'll  send  him  over  to-morrow  mornin','' 
spoke  up  Kitty,  as  prompt  as  you  please, 
"an'  you'd  best  'ouse  him  for  a  few  days, 
an'  git  your  job  done!  " 

That  night  she  had  the  great  joke  to  tell 
Maggie  and  Willie. 

"An'  she'll  find  him  out!  She'll  find  him 
out !  ' '  she  crowed.  ' '  Oh,  the  grand  treas- 
ure, let  her  'ave  him!  " 


26  John  o'  Partletts' 

The  next  morning,  accordingly,  little  Jim 
appeared  at  Louisa's. 

The  ' l  bit  of  gardening  ' '  proved  to  be  the 
rather  tough  job  of  dislodging  some  big 
stones  along  the  fence  line  and  setting  them 
at  regular  intervals  in  a  newly  made  garden 
bed,  —  a  good  bit  of  work  for  a  grown-up. 

Little  Jim  came  to  this  task  with  his  very 
slight  supply  of  strength,  his  usual  absent- 
mindedness,  and  a  great  deal  of  scariness; 
when  it  is  added  that  he  had  for  his  break- 
fast a  small  piece  of  hard  bread  and  a  cup 
of  stale  tea,  it  will  hardly  be  wondered  at  if 
the  work  did  not  proceed  famously. 

Louisa  told  him  with  patronizing  bland- 
ness  that  she  would  leave  him  alone  with  it 
and  not  come  back  until  twelve  o'clock,  for 
she  hoped  to  be  surprised  at  how  much  he 
would  accomplish. 

Little  Jim,  left  alone  in  a  dark  shadowy 
corner  of  the  garden,  clawed  and  scratched 
away  at  the  stones  as  effectively  as  he  might. 
They  were  round,  covered  with  mould  and 
damp,  and  when  he  did  get  one  up  it  would 


Some  More  About  Jim  27 

slip  out  of  his  hands  and  fall  on  his  toes; 
and  then,  when  he  picked  it  up  again,  and 
hugging  it  to  him,  endeavored  to  walk,  it 
slipped,  slipped,  slowly,  surely,  and  finally 
struck  the  ground  and  bounded  away.  This 
happened  thrice.  The  third  time  a  sly,  low 
laugh  sounded  from  the  hedge  just  at  his 
elbow ;  he  turned,  and  saw  a  person  he  knew 
well. 

Willie  Merryweather  stood  there,  his 
hands  on  his  hips,  his  cap  pushed  well  back 
on  his  shock  of  red  hair,  nodding  his  head, 
and  speaking  encouragingly :  * '  Try  it  again  I 
Try  it  again !  ' ' 

Jim,  perforce,  tried  again.  But  if  he  was 
unable  to  do  well  when  he  believed  himself 
to  be  alone,  he  did  far  worse  before  this  self- 
invited  audience.  His  hands  began  to  trem- 
ble, his  eyes  rolled  helplessly,  and  his  lips 
quivered  too. 

1 '  Fine,  Mr.  Nigger,  fine !  Pick  it  up  with 
your  ears !  Carry  it  on  the  tip  of  your  toes ! 
What  yo'  tryin'  to  do?  Play  nine-pins f  " 

Jim  grabbed  a  stone  and  staggered  away 


28  John  o'  Partletts' 

with  it  in  desperation,  to  be  away  from  the 
taunting  voice.  He  got  it  at  length  to  the 
other  end  of  the  garden,  rolled  it  into  place, 
and  stood  looking  at  it  a  long  while,  in  the 
hope  that  Willie  Merryweather  might  go 
away.  Unfortunately,  just  at  this  time,  Lou- 
isa Myers,  looking  from  an  upper  window, 
saw  him. 

"  Well!  if  he  ain't  jes'  starinM  Moonin', 
most  likely!  "  And  she  watched  him  while 
five,  ten,  fifteen  precious  minutes  went  by. 

When  Jim  finally  returned  to  his  cor- 
ner, Willie  Merryweather  had  disappeared. 
Greatly  relieved,  he  again  began  his  strug- 
gles with  the  big,  slippery  stones.  Selecting 
one,  he  went  round  and  round  it,  to  loosen 
it  from  its  bed.  Suddenly  he  stopped  and 
clapped  his  hand  to  his  head.  Something 
small,  sharp  and  stinging  had  struck  him! 
He  looked  all  about.  No  one  was  in  sight, 
but  he  had  scarcely  bent  to  his  task  again 
before  he  felt  the  same  sharp  sting,  this  time 
on  his  neck. 

4 '  Now  —  who  dar !  "  he  cried  out  in  his 


Some  More  About  Jim  29 

deep  little  voice ;  and,  straightening  himself, 
rolled  his  eyes  round  in  genuine  affright. 
Then,  lifting  his  head  to  look  aloft,  he  sud- 
denly received  a  shower  of  sharp  little  mis- 
siles thrown  straight  in  his  face,  and :  ' '  Hi, 
dar!  "  came  Willie  Merryweather's  voice,  in 
mocking  mimicry,  from  the  branches  of  the 
big  tree  above. 

The  little  darkey  drew  back. 

"  Oh,  Marse  Willie!  Marse  Willie!  "  he 
whimpered,  covering  his  face  with  his  claw- 
like,  dirty  hands. 

* '  Oh,  Marse  Willie !  Marse  Willie !  ' '  mim- 
icked the  voice  in  the  tree-top. 

"  Don'  do  me  so,  Marse  Willie!  " 

11  Don'  do  me  so,  Marse  Willie!  "  mim- 
icked the  voice. 

"  I  got  to  do  my  work,  Marse  Willie!  " 
pleaded  the  small  voice  on  the  ground. 

"  I  got  to  do  my  work!  "  came  the  taunt- 
ing voice  from  the  tree-top. 

This  was  an  enemy  impervious  to  pleas! 
Jim  stood  for  some  time  hesitating  between 
fear  of  him  and  fear  of  displeasing  the  big, 


30  John  o'  Partletts' 

stranger  woman,  who  had  set  him  at  this 
task.  Finally  he  ventured  from  the  shelter 
of  the  hedge,  and  again  began  his  operations. 
Willie  encouraged  by  voice  and  stone  throw- 
ing, and  Jim  watched  him,  and  moved  cau- 
tiously, lest,  in  an  unguarded  movement,  he 
should  leap  down  upon  his  back. 

When  the  morning  was  well  spent,  Willie 
scrambled  down  from  his  perch.  He  grinned 
around  him  affably,  stood  about  for  a  few 
minutes,  shying  stones  at  an  old  fence  post, 
just  to  prove  his  dexterity  and  fondness  for 
this  pastime,  then  sauntered  off,  hands  in 
pockets,  and  an  expression  on  his  pale  and 
freckled  countenance  that  seemed  to  denote 
to  the  world  a  pleasing  and  comfortable  self- 
satisfaction. 

Yes,  Willie  had  found  an  occupation  en- 
tirely to  his  taste;  that  of  teasing  Mr.  Nig- 
ger. It  was  amusing,  easy,  and  beyond  all 

—  safe !    His  adversary  —  or  rather,  victim 

—  was  too  undersized  to  dream  of  striking 
back,   and,   moreover,   he   never   told   tales. 
For  Jim  had  not  only  been  taught  from  birth, 


Some  More  About  Jim  31 

but  lie  had  something  within  him  which  in- 
stinctively comprehended  the  truth  of  the 
darkey  saying :  —  "  There  ain  't  no  luck  in 
tellin'  on  white  chillun,  nohow  1  " 


CHAPTER   IV 

"  GIVE   A   DOG  A   BAD   NAME —  " 

WHEN  Louisa  Myers  comprehended  that 
during  the  whole  course  of  the  morning  Jim 
had  moved  exactly  three  stones  and  set  them 
in  place,  she  was  "  dumb-foundered."  No 
other  word  could  express  her  feelings;  — 
she  stood  "  dumb-foundered." 

She  swallowed  a  few  times  and  asked: 

"  What  you  been  doing?  " 

11  I  dun  tote  free  stones,  Missis,"  replied 
Jim,  He  did  not  look  at  her,  because  he  was 
afraid  of  her  big,  blue  eyes.  He  looked  at 
the  result  of  his  labors,  and  felt  very  forlorn. 

"  Three  stones!  "  repeated  Louisa.  But 
she  took  him  into  the  house  and  gave  him 
dinner  consisting  of  cold  potatoes  and  a  dish 
of  sauer-kraut.  Priding  herself  upon  acting 
almost  too  generously  toward  a  worker  who 

32 


"  Give  a  Dog  a  Bad  Name  —  "      33 

had  accomplished  so  very  little,  Louisa  would 
have  been  amazed  indeed  could  she  have  sus- 
pected how  extremely  unpalatable  this  food 
appeared  to  the  child. 

Darkeys  are  something  like  cats ;  they  will 
not  eat  simply  for  sustenance,  if  they  cannot 
get  what  they  like  they  prefer  to  eat  nothing 
at  all.  And  they  like  what  they  have  been 
accustomed  to. 

Born  and  bred  in  a  land  flowing  with  fried 
chicken,  fresh  fish,  sweet  yams,  corn  pone, 
and  oranges,  Jim  found  nothing  eatable  in 
the  heavy,  tasteless  "  duff "  with  which 
Kitty  Merry  weather  "  filled  up  "  her  Willie 
and  Maggie.  Sickly  from  birth,  he  had  al- 
ways eaten  little  even  when  food  to  his  taste 
was  provided;  and  now,  since  his  Grand- 
mammy's  death,  he  had  come  to  have  a  kind 
of  dread  of  the  "  strange  food  "  which  was 
given  him.  Louisa's  sauer-kraut  wore  an 
unfamiliar  appearance.  He  took  a  hasty 
taste,  and  frankly  left  it  alone. 

"*         4 

Louisa  had  certainly  begrudged  him  the 
delicacy  when  she  set  it  before  him,  but  that 


34  John  o'  Partletts' 

did  not  prevent  her  from  being  exceedingly 
annoyed  to  see  him  leave  it. 

"  What's  the  matter!  "  she  asked  sharply. 
"  Ain't  it  to  your  taste?  " 

"  I  ain't  hungry,"  said  little  Jim,  and  told 
the  exact  truth;  for  seated  here  in  Louisa's 
small  kitchen,  under  her  big,  compelling,  ob- 
servant eyes,  he  felt  too  lonely,  frightened 
and  forlorn  to  be  hungry. 

"  Well,  I  guess  there's  a  reason  for  that!  " 
said  Louisa,  sharply,  taking  the  plate  away. 
"  People  that  do  their  work  is  usually  able 
to  eat  their  victuals !  ' ' 

For  the  afternoon  she  gave  him  the  lighter 
task  of  pulling  weeds  out  of  her  vegetable 
beds. 

It  was  warm  over  in  the  vegetable  garden. 
The  air  smelt  of  Spring,  and  the  sky  was 
blue.  Some  rabbits  had  a  burrow  under  an 
old  shed  near  by.  They  began  coming  out, 
now  an  old  grey  bunny,  now  a  small,  white 
one,  then  another  grey,  until  a  whole  family 
were  hobbling  about,  sitting  up  to  cock  their 
ears  and  listen,  and  rubbing  their  heads 


"  Give  a  Dog  a  Bad  Name  —  "      35 

against  the  clumps  of  coarse  grass,  fast  turn- 
ing a  vivid  green. 

Jim  sat  back  on  his  heels,  motionless.  All 
cottontails  are  alike.  He  had  seen  the 
brother  of  that  big  bunny  far  down  South. 
The  sight  was  like  a  sight  of  home,  and  Jim 
began  to  see  one  of  his  visions ;  he  began  to 
see  the  orange  grove,  and  the  big,  white 
house;  he  began  to  hear  the  darkeys  sing- 
ing: 

"OF  Mis' is  caliin'! 
01'  Mis'  is  caliin'! 
Ol'  Mis'  is  caliin'  me! " 

Then  everything  faded.  He  saw  his  Grand- 
mammy  in  the  little  cabin  kitchen,  making 
meat  soup,  thickened  with  okra,  flavored  with 
fresh,  green  peppers,  such  as  darkeys  love. 
She  was  laughing,  and  wiping  her  hands  on 
her  apron,  her  broad  face  shining,  her  big, 
brass  ear-rings  twinkling.  Then  everything 
was  still  in  the  vegetable  garden,  save  for 
the  soft  rustle  of  the  rabbits  warily  hopping 
about  in  the  grass.  Jim's  waking  vision  had 
passed  into  a  dream. 


36  John  o'  Partletts' 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  Louisa 
Myers  broke  the  stillness;  in  a  voice  muffled 
by  inward  agitation  she  exclaimed : 

"  Well,  what  is  the  meaning  of  it!  " 

She  was  looking  down  on  Jim's  face  up- 
turned in  the  sunlight,  peaceful,  serene  — 
And  it  was  just  this  expression  of  serenity 
which  was  more  than  mortal  flesh  could  en- 
dure! Louisa  had  a  temper  which,  not  only 
did  others  fear,  she  feared  it  herself.  That 
was  why,  when  she  shook  Jim's  arm,  she  said 
to  him  with  emphatic  earnestness : 

"  Now,  look  here,  don't  you  make  me  mad, 
—  don 't  you  make  me  mad,  I  warn  you !  ' ' 

And  Jim,  looking  into  her  broad,  accusing 
face,  the  flesh  of  which  slightly  quivered  with 
the  effort  at  self-control,  had  no  wish  to.  He 
scrambled  to  his  feet,  but,  as  usual,  he  had 
not  a  word  to  say,  and  stood,  slightly  shuf- 
fling in  the  dirt,  the  picture  of  convicted  guilt. 

"  Come  along  with  me!  "  she  said  sternly, 
and  Jim,  with  head  lowered,  followed. 

By  the  kitchen  steps  stood  a  basket  of 
freshly  washed  clothes. 


"  Give  a  Dog  a  Bad  Name  —  "      37 

"  Here,  go  into  the  kitchen  and  wash  your 
hands,  and  then  hang  these  things  out  on  the 
line.  Let  me  see  if  there's  something  you 
can  do!  " 

Louisa  helped  him  carry  the  basket  to  an 
open  space,  between  a  lilac  hedge  that  bor- 
dered on  the  road  and  her  cottage ;  then  she 
left  him,  too  wroth  to  look  or  speak  further, 
and  Jim  began  to  take  the  things  from  the 
basket;  they  were  small  pieces,  towels,  etc., 
—  a  job  quite  within  his  powers,  and  this 
time  he  did  not  pause  until  it  was  complete. 

"  Have  you  done?  "  asked  Louisa,  slightly 
relenting  from  her  extreme  sternness  when 
he  came  into  the  kitchen  sooner  than  she  ex- 
pected. 

"  Yes,  Missis !  "  said  Jim,  and  he  carefully 
set  down  the  empty  basket. 

The  soft  Spring  gloaming  was  falling  out- 
side; through  the  open  door  a  glimpse  of 
dark  violet  sky  could  be  seen,  in  which,  here 
and  there,  an  illusive  star  twinkled.  The  air 
smelt  sweetly  of  damp  earth  and  budding 
verdure. 


38  John  o'  Partletts' 

Louisa  walked  slowly  the  length  of  the. 
kitchen,  reached  the  window,  looked  through 
it,  and  then  she  screamed;  she  screamed 
twice,  and  stamped  her  foot  on  the  floor. 

1 '  You  little  scamp !  ' '  she  cried  out,  ' '  you 
careless,  dirty,  idle,  little  scamp !  ' ' 

At  the  same  instant  there  came  a  drum- 
ming on  the  front  door  of  the  house. 

"  Mis'  Myers!"  called  Willie  Merry- 
weather's  voice,  "  your  clothes  line  is  all 
tumbled  down,  an'  the  clothes  in  the  dirt! 
I  thought  I'd  tell  yo',  'cause  the  dogs '11  be 
tromplin'  'em!  " 

' '  As  if  I  can 't  see  with  my  own  eyes !  ' ' 
yelled  Louisa.  And,  rushing  upon  Jim,  she 
seized  him  as  he  stood,  with  his  back  to  her, 
and  taking  him  by  the  shoulders,  shook  him 
until  his  teeth  rattled.  Then  she  marched 
him  across  the  room,  still  holding  him  by  the 
shoulders  and  shaking: 

"  Now,  you  dirty,  low,  careless  little 
sloven !  Get  out  of  my  house  —  I'll  have  you 
no  more  around!  You  nigger,  you!  You 
nigger,  you!  " 


"  Give  a  Dog  a  Bad  Name  —  "      39 

And  at  each  epithet  she  planted  her  knee 
vigorously  in  Jim's  hinder  parts. 

Jim,  utterly  bewildered,  cried  out: 

''Please,  m'am,  I  ain't  done  nothin'! 
Please,  m'am!  " 

The  performance  did  not  cause  any  great 
physical  pain  to  little  Jim,  but  it  did  cause 
him  the  most  acute,  mental  anguish  and  ter- 
ror. For  Louisa's  temper  was  unbound,  and 
her  face  expressed  a  fury  hardly  to  be  put 
into  words.  She  pushed  Jim  out  of  the 
house,  slammed,  locked  and  bolted  the  door, 
as  if  he  were  a  ruffian  who  would  rush  back 
upon  her. 

When  she  had  tranquillized  herself  suffi- 
ciently to  take  practical  action,  she  grasped 
her  basket  and  rushed  out  to  the  clothes  line. 
There  lay  her  day's  wash  in  the  soft,  damp 
dirt.  It  was  an  embittering  sight!  She 
stooped  to  pick  up  the  end  of  the  line,  which 
had  been  attached  to  a  pole  near  the  lilac 
hedge,  and  suddenly  straightened  herself. 
The  end  of  the  line  was  not  broken;  it  had 
been  cut,  cleanly  cut  with  a  knife  I 


40  John  o'  Partletts' 

Louisa  began  to  run  up  and  down  her  little 
yard,  she  began  to  put  her  hands  to  her  head 
like  one  possessed. 

"  Oh!  "  she  cried  brokenly.  "  So  that's 
the  kind  you  are!  Ach!  Gott  in  Himmel! 
Ach,  Gott!  Not  an  accident,  but  spite,  pure 
spite!  An'  I  did  no  thin'  to  him,  only  give 
him  his  victuals,  an'  treated  him  decently! 
Oh,  mein  Gott!  And  his  heart  is  like  his 
body,  black !  Ach,  my  clothes  line,  cut  down 
mit  ein  knife!  My  clothes  in  der  dirt!  Oh, 
der  wickedness!  der  black-heartedness !  " 

"Word  going  round  that  "  Mis'  Myers  was 
in  one  of  her  tantrums,"  soon  an  audience 
was  peeping  through  the  lilac  hedge.  But 
Louisa  was  blind  and  deaf.  She  continued 
to  run  up  and  down  her  little  yard,  her  large 
face  white,  and  she  talked  to  herself  in  the 
broken  German-English  which  she  always 
fell  into  when  excited. 

Occasionally  she  would  run  to  the  gate, 
throw  it  open,  and  shake  a  threatening  fist 
down  the  road: 

"  Ach!    If  I  had  you  now!    If  I  had  you 


"  Give  a  Dog  a  Bad  Name  —  "      41 

now!  "  It  was  fortunate,  indeed,  for  little 
Jim  that  she  did  not  have  him. 

Altogether,  though  that  was  a  memorable 
day  for  Louisa  Myers,  it  was  a  still  more 
memorable  one  for  little  Jim,  because  on  that 
day  a  bad  reputation  was  founded  for  him, 
and  we  all  know  that  is  no  light  encumbrance. 

It  was  said  that  when  Kitty  Merryweather 
heard  all  about  it  she  simply  sat  down  and 
laughed  until  the  tears  ran  down  her  face. 
Whether  her  Willie  informed  her  of  his  share 
in  it  is  not  known;  if  he  did  she  certainly 
would  not  have  chided  him  severely  for  such 
an  excellent  joke. 

"  Well!  "  she  remarked,  "  as  long  as  he's 
had  such  a  fine  success  with  Mis'  Myers,  I'll 
be  sendin'  him  round  the  neighborhood  an' 
see  what  the  others '11  make  of  'im.  They've 
been  waggin'  their  tongues,  now  mayhaps 
they'll  find  I've  not  got  such  a  grand  treas- 
ure! " 

And  so  it  came  about  that  little  Jim  began 
a  very  wretched  existence  of  going  about  to 
house  and  farm  to  do  a  day's  work.  Had  he 


42  John  o'  Partletts' 

been  a  jolly  little  darkey,  he  might  have  liked 
it,  but  he  was  sad-faced  and  scary;  if  any 
one  looked  at  him  hard  while  he  was  working 
he  became  confused.  At  the  best,  he  was 
dreamy  and  absent-minded,  spilt  things,  for- 
got what  he  was  told,  —  his  silence  was  taken 
for  obstinacy,  his  downcast  looks  for  sour- 
ness. But  what  really  fastened  evil  renown 
upon  him  was  that  outrageous  things  hap- 
pened when  people 's  backs  were  turned,  — 
things  on  a  par  with  the  cutting  down  of 
Louisa's  clothes  line.  "  The  spite  he's  got 
in  him!  "  was  said;  "an'  the  darin'ness!  " 
Many  a  sly  slap  did  little  Jim  get,  many 
an  uneatable  meal. 

In  this  way  the  summer  wore  on. 

Kitty  Merryweather  had  long  ago  stripped 
Jim's  little  room  of  its  belongings;  even  the 
crooked  geranium,  being  in  bloom,  was  taken 
down-stairs  to  decorate  Kitty's  kitchen; 
nothing  remained  except  the  mattress,  from 
which  the  yellow  comforter,  once  its  pride, 
was  removed. 


"  Give  a  Dog  a  Bad  Name  —  "      43 

Fortunately  the  weather  was  warm,  the 
child  suffered  no  great  discomfort,  and  this 
world  is  so  arranged  that  one  is  seldom  too 
forlorn  to  find  consolation  somewhere. 

Jim  found  his  in  the  blue  sky.  Often, 
when  he  had  leisure,  and  sometimes,  it  must 
be  confessed,  when  he  should  have  been  work- 
ing, he  would  just  gaze  and  gaze  into  that 
blue  sky.  .What  he  thought  it  would  be  im- 
possible to  say.  At  home,  on  the  old  planta- 
tion, it  had  been  said  of  Jim  that  "  he  didn't 
quite  have  all."  Perhaps  that  was  true. 
Perhaps  it  was  true,  too,  that  he  had  some- 
thing just  a  little  different  from  that  which 
is  usually  dominated  "  all;  "  the  faintest 
and  tiniest  touch  of  that  something  which 
perceives  beauty  where  those  who  have 
"  all  "  are  oftentimes  too  busy  and  troubled 
about  other  things  to  perceive  it  in  the  least. 
Not  that  that  something  had  any  business  in 
a  little  nigger  too  ignorant  to  write  his  own 
name  and  only  three  generations  removed 
from  the  jungle.  It  hadn't.  It  made  him 
dreamy,  and  moony,  and  stupid,  and  clumsy ; 


44  John  o'  Partletts' 

—  and  yet  it  did  this  for  him,  it  gave  him 
moments  of  peace  and  comfort;  it  gave  a 
charm  to  the  sky,  and  to  the  fleecy  clouds, 
and  to  the  soft  summer  light  and  sheen  on 
fields  and  hedges.  The  moment  that  Jim 
looked  at  these  things,  and  felt  himself  alone 
with  them,  the  alien  world  around  him  faded, 
he  felt  far  away ;  they  exerted  a  magic  influ- 
ence ;  home  appeared,  and  he  seemed  to  hear 
familiar  voices  singing: 

"  Who  dat  a-callin'  ? 
Who  dat  a-callin'  ? 
Who  dat  a-callin'  me  ?  " 

There  was  one  place  in  particular  where 
his  eyes  continually  wandered;  that  was  up 
to  the  great  hill  of  Partletts ',  up  to  that  spot 
on  the  very  summit  where  the  dark  firs  raised 
their  pointed  tops  straight  into  the  very  mid- 
dle of  the  sky.  There  the  sky  seemed  bluest, 
the  sunshine  brightest,  there  the  birds  cir- 
cled, circled,  far  away  from  Partlettsville, 
its  bareness  and  ugliness. 

One  day  Kitty  Merryweather  came  upon 
him  as  he  had  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  hill. 


"  Give  a  Dog  a  Bad  Name  —  "      45 

"I'll  tell  you  what's  up  there!  "  she  said. 
"  You  go  up  the  side  of  the  hill,  an'  yo'  come 
on  old  shoemaker  Simon's  cottage.  He  lives 
up  there  with  his  beast,  the  fiercest  ever  you 
see,  —  a  dog  what  scowls  at  you  like  this ; 
an '  would  finish  a  critter  like  you  in  a  gobble ! 
An'  you  know  what's  up  there  in  a  little  house 
just  t'other  side  o'  the  brow  o'  the  hill?  An 
old  witch,  —  I  go  up  there  an'  work  for  her, 
just  to  hear  her  talk,  an'  to  tell  folks  about 
her.  Her  name's  Beevish  —  Witch  Beevish, 
we  calls  her.  But  they  do  say  that  when  she 
lived  out  in  the  big  world  she  had  a  fine  house 
somewheres,  an'  her  carridge,  an'  her  'orses, 
an'  her  servants,  —  but  somethin'  went 
wrong  with  her  folks;  they  turned  on  her, 
or  she  on  them,  an*  by  some  hook  or  crook 
they  got  her  money  from  her.  Anyhow,  she 
couldn't  stand  bein'  with  her  own  kind  no 
more,  an'  she's  come  down  in  the  world  some- 
thin'  terrible!  Yo'  see  the  little  path  past 
the  shoemaker's,  —  steep  as  your  hand,  ain't 
it?  That's  the  way  I  take,  an'  when  I  come 
to  that  first  pine  tree,  I  dive  right  down  into 


46  John  o'  Partletts' 

the  hollow,  an'  there's  her  'ouse!  I  can  see 
the  smoke  from  her  chimney  this  minute,  be- 
tween the  big  pine  an'  the  little  one.  She's 
got  a  garden  there  —  well,  witches  can  make 
things  grow!  There's  somethin'  strange 
about  her,  sure!  "  cackled  Kitty.  "  An'  you 
look  sharp  an'  draw  me  some  water  now,  or 
some  fine  day  I'll  be  fetchin'  you  up  there, 
an'  she'll  bewitch  yo'  sure!  Turn  yo'  into 
a  tree,  most  like,  or  a  frog!  " 

After  that,  whenever  Jim  was  lazy,  or  did 
his  work  badly,  or  whenever  she  found  him 
gazing  at  the  hill,  she  would  cry  out : 

"  Hi,  hi,  now,  the  old  witch '11  git  yo'! 
Witch  Beevish'll  be  bewitchin'  you  sure!  " 


CHAPTER  V 

"    AND    HANG   HIM  " 

IN  the  meantime  the  Summer  wore  on,  the 
days  were  growing  a  bit  shorter,  the  morn- 
ings cooler.  In  the  parsonage  garden  —  the 
only  garden  in  Partlettsville  that  could  boast 
a  few  fine  grapevines  —  the  grapes  had  ri- 
pened ;  they  were  very  sound  and  large  this 
year,  and  they  were  being  picked.  Ordina- 
rily this  task  was  undertaken  by  Mrs.  Car- 
ruthers  and  the  old  Scotch  servant,  Elsa; 
but  this  year  Elsa's  rheumatism  was  very 
bad,  and  frail  little  Mrs.  Carruthers  was  not 
well.  The  grape  picking  had  been  allotted  to 
Jim. 

And  now,  this  bright,  mild  September 
morning,  a  terrible  thing  had  happened!  A 
big  bushel  basket  of  the  finest  of  the  grapes 

had  been  upset,  the  grapes  thrown  out  in  the 

47 


48  John  o'  Partletts' 

gravelled  garden  path,  and  not  only  mashed, 
but,  as  Mr.  Carruthers  affirmed,  deliberately 
trampled  upon !  It  was  past  understanding, 
and  Jim,  who  had  been  left  alone  at  his  work, 
could  give  no  accounting.  What  made  mat- 
ters worse  was  that,  early  in  the  Summer, 
when  he  was  picking  the  gooseberries,  the 
same  thing  had  happened;  and  tales  of  like 
"  accidents  "  were  frequently  reported 
through  the  neighborhood. 

Now,  Jim  stood  miserably  shuffling  his  feet 
in  the  dirt,  rolling  his  eyes,  his  black  expres- 
sionless little  face  impossible  to  read,  while 
Mr.  Carruthers  stood  accusingly  before  him. 
Old  Elsa  leaned  in  the  kitchen  door,  wiping 
a  plate  as  she  stood,  for  her  hands  were  never 
idle;  Mrs.  Carruthers,  pale  and  anxious- 
eyed,  beside  her,  and  the  eight  Carruthers 
children  crowding  against  the  window-pane, 
from  twelve  year  old  Harry,  pale  and  sensi- 
tive like  his  mother,  to  yellow-haired,  merry 
little  Margy,  the  baby  of  the  family,  who  had 
not  been  in  this  world  long  enough  to  com- 
prehend that  everything  should  come  under 


"  —  And  Hang  Him"  49 

the  head  of  duty  and  discipline,  and  who  still 
shook  her  golden  curls,  and  roguishly  and 
defiantly  winked  her  blue  eyes  in  the  face, 
as  Elsa  would  say,  "  of  the  Maister  hisself !  " 

The  "  Maister  "  stood  now  very  stiff- 
backed  and  rigid,  his  tall,  lean  figure  drawn 
up  commandingly,  and  every  minute  Jim 
grew  more  frightened  and  unable  to  find  a 
word  for  himself. 

11  I  want  to  understand,"  came  the  minis- 
ter's keen,  clear  voice,  "  why  you  upset  that 
basket.  Come,  make  a  clean  breast  of  itl  " 

"I  —  I  never  done  it,  sah !  ' *  stammered 
Jim  at  last. 

Mr.  Carruthers  started. 

* '  Now,  now !  "  he  exclaimed  warningly, 
raising  his  long  forefinger,  "  that's  what  you 
told  me  when  you  upset  the  gooseberries !  I 
passed  it  over  then,  but  I'll  not  pass  over  a 
second  lie.  Do  an  ill  deed  and  confess  it; 
or,  do  an  ill  deed  and  stick  to  a  denial  of  it, 
—  there's  the  difference  between  a  person 
who  is  not  all  bad  and  one  who  is!  There's 
some  hope  for  the  former !  There 's  none  for 


50  John  o'  Partletts' 

the  latter!  "  he  finished  decidedly,  with  a 
straightening  of  his  lips. 

It  was  far  beyond  Jim,  at  this  moment,  to 
follow  the  sense  of  Mr.  Carruthers'  words, 
but  he  felt  the  stern  blue  eyes  upon  him,  he 
knew  that  he  must  speak,  and,  after  a  death- 
like silence,  he  brought  out  the  exact  truth. 

"  I  —  I  ain't  got  nothin'  to  say,  sah!" 
Then,  as  the  ominous  silence  warned  him 
that  this  would  not  do,  he  shuffled  his  feet  in 
dumb  confusion. 

1 '  Come,  out  with  it !  ' '  exclaimed  the  keen 
voice  again.  "  Remember,  you  must  say 
something!  Speak  the  truth!  " 

Jim  gave  a  hasty,  scared  glance  about  Mm, 
and  thus  hard-pressed,  muttered: 

"I  —  I  ain't  seen  nobody,  sah,  but  I'se  — 
I'se  a  feelin'  dat  somebody  done  crope  up  on 
me,  an'  upset  dat  basket — "  he  stopped, 
choked,  and  was  again  dumb. 

1 '  Impossible !  ' '  the  clear  voice  came  em- 
phatically, and  this  time  with  passion  in  it. 
"Who  in  the  world — ?  But  it  is  utterly 
useless  to  parley  further !  Come  with  me !  ' ' 


"  —  And  Hang  Him"  51 

A  firm  hand  was  laid  on  Jim's  shoulder. 
It  guided  him  into  the  house,  and  into  the 
minister's  study.  As  the  door  closed  a  timid 
voice  was  heard  to  whisper  something;  Mr. 
Carruthers  opened  it  again  and  looked  into 
the  pleading  face  of  his  wife.  He  stepped  out 
into  the  hall,  shutting  the  door  behind  him. 

Mrs.  Carruthers  paused.  It  was  no  light 
matter  to  interfere  with  her  husband  in  the 
discharge  of  his  duty,  but,  after  a  moment, 
she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Henry,  I  know  that  whatever  you  do  is 
right,"  she  whispered,  voicing  a  sentiment 
that  reigned  supreme  in  this  household. 
"  But  I  must  beg  you  to  remember  that  it 
is  a  delicate  child;  at  least  —  "  she  hesitated, 
"  he  appears  so  to  me;  and  —  I  pity  him  I  " 

"  I  pity  him,  too,"  replied  her  husband  in 
his  gravest  tones,  "  because  he  has  no  knowl- 
edge of  truth,  of  rectitude,  and  I  wish  to  help 
him.  You  know  well  that  he  has  done  wrong, 
not  only  to  us  but  to  others,  and  on  such 
occasions  he  always  lies!  I  have  forbidden 
anyone  in  this  town  to  lay  a  hand  on  him, 


52  John  o'  Partletts' 

for  I  will  not  have  a  child  ill-treated  here. 
But  if  I  do  not  allow  others  to  punish  him, 
then  I  must  punish  him  myself  as  an  act  of 
simple  justice.  You  must  not  make  yourself 
unhappy,  my  dear,"  he  added  kindly,  but  in 
a  tone  that  admitted  of  no  argument.  "  It 
is,"  he  added,  his  face  and  figure  becoming 
slightly  more  rigid,  "  an  unpleasant  duty,  — 
a  very  painful  one,  but  I  shall  perform  it !  " 
Then  little  Mrs.  Carruthers  knew  that  it 
was  useless  to  speak  further.  From  a  pain- 
ful duty  her  husband  never  flinched,  whether 
it  was  such  a  one  as  now  lay  before  him, 
or  whether  it  was  to  walk  miles  through  the 
darkest  of  nights  and  heavy  snows  to  some 
far-off  parishioner,  who,  "  perchance  might 
need  him."  Henry  Carruthers  in  his  criti- 
cisms and  judgments  did  not  spare  others, 
but  then,  on  the  other  hand,  he  never  spared 
himself.  He  laid  down  the  straightest,  strict- 
est, sternest  line  of  conduct,  and  he  adhered 
to  it,  firm-lipped  and  undeviating.  If  others 
deviated,  they  were,  in  his  opinion,  marked 
men,  to  be  exhorted,  driven,  frightened  some- 


"  —  And  Hang  Him"  53 

how  back  into  the  path.  He  was  a  minister, 
a  religionist,  of  the  old  school,  and,  in  those 
days,  this  was  a  serious,  earnest,  terrible 
business,  —  as  little  Mrs.  Carruthers  had 
come  to  know  well. 

She  turned  away  now,  and,  going  to  her 
own  room,  softly  closed  the  door  and  sat 
down  before  a  picture  of  the  Sistine  Ma- 
donna which  hung  upon  her  wall  there.  It 
was  the  only  beautiful  thing  she  owned,  and 
she  had  brought  it,  long  ago,  from  her  own 
home.  It  consoled  her  to  look  into  the  noble, 
serene  face,  and  she  often  came  and  sat  so 
when  overburdened  or  discouraged,  —  or, 
when  one  of  her  own  children  was  ordered 
into  the  study,  trying  not  to  listen,  and  to 
quiet  the  beating  of  her  heart. 

But  to-day  it  seemed  even  worse  than  when 
it  was  one  of  her  own,  for  they,  being  her 
own,  she  could  comfort ;  sooner  or  later,  she 
could  console,  as  she  so  well  knew  how  to 
console !  But  this  was  a  little  outcast,  — 
there  was  not  a  tender  hand  or  voice  in  the 
world  to  cheer  or  sympathize ! 


54 


And  the  eyes  of  the  frail  woman,  whose 
own  life  was  overburdened  with  cares  and 
exactions,  filled  with  tears  of  warm  sympa- 
thy for  the  little  darkey  whom  all  Partletts- 
ville  had  come  to  regard  as  a  *  *  bad  un, ' '  and 
humorously  called  "  little  Mr.  Nigger." 

When  that  dreadful  fifteen  minutes  in  the 
minister's  study  was  over,  and  Mr.  Carru- 
thers  told  Jim  to  put  on  his  coat  again,  and 
hung  up  a  certain  little  strap  in  its  accus- 
tomed place  behind  his  desk,  Mrs.  Carruthers, 
up-stairs,  heard  the  study  door  open,  and 
she  softly  glided  down  and  paused  in  a  curve 
of  the  staircase.  "When  Jim  passed  out  of 
the  front  door  to  face  once  more  an  un- 
friendly little  world,  she  followed,  with  her 
quick,  light  step.  But  a  step  as  quick  as  her 
own  caused  her  to  start,  and  her  husband's 
hand  was  laid  detainingly  on  her  arm. 
11  Nay,  nay,  now,  my  lass,  you  must  na'  be 
undoin'  my  work!  "  he  said  in  a  low  tone. 
She  was  the  only  creature  in  the  world  before 
whom  he  ever  relaxed  his  stern  face,  and 
spoke  tenderly;  when  he  did,  he  always  fell 


"  —  And  Hang  Him"  55 

into  his  loved  Scotch,  —  it  was  dear  to  his 
heart,  and,  besides,  it  helped  him  to  express 
the  softer  feeling. 

She  looked  now  into  his  face;  in  spite  of 
the  kindness  of  his  tone,  his  expression  of 
conviction  and  determination  was  immov- 
able. She  sighed,  and  slightly  turned.  But 
he  saw  something  in  her  face  too,  and  he  said 
with  unwonted  tenderness : 

11  Nay,  lass,  don't  grieve;  leave  such 
troubles  to  me  and  go  and  rest  yourself,  if 
only  for  a  wee  while;  it's  plain  to  my  eye 
that  you  need  it,  and,  you  know,  it's  care  you 
should  be  taking  of  yourself  just  now !  ' ' 

She  went  obediently  to  her  room,  and  lay 
down  upon  her  bed ;  but  rest  she  could  not ; 
her  heart  was  oppressed,  and  it  beat  heavily. 
She  raised  her  eyes  and  looked  at  the  benign 
face  in  the  picture,  but  it  did  not  comfort. 

At  length  she  whispered :  *  *  0  Lord,  there 
is  so  much  in  this  world  that  we  can- 
not understand!  I  pray  Thee,  out  of  Thy 
deep,  boundless  mercy,  to  help  any  who  may 
be  friendless,  forlorn,  or  sorrowful!  "  She 


56  John  o'  Partletts' 

hesitated,  then  added:  "  And  I  pray  Thee 
to  forgive  us  all  our  mistakes!  Out  of  Thy 
mercy,  0  Lord!  Amen." 

Then,  in  her  woman's  weakness,  having 
done  what  she  could,  —  uttered  a  sincere 
prayer,  —  she  was  consoled,  and  turned  her 
head  upon  her  pillow  and  slept. 


CHAPTER  VI 

JIM    GOBS   TO   PARTLETTS* 

IN  Partlettsville  it  was  very  soon  known 
what  a  dreadful  disgrace  had  happened  to 
Jim. 

And  Jim,  himself,  felt  it  so  deeply  that, 
instead  of  going  back  to  Kitty  Merryweath- 
er's,  he  went  off  by  himself  to  a  quiet  spot 
near  the  stream  that  flowed  along  the  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  and  throwing  himself 
down  in  the  long  grass,  covered  his  eyes  with 
his  arm. 

Never  in  his  life  had  he  been  so  frightened 
and  shaken.  Often  he  had  been  slapped  and 
pinched  by  the  inhabitants  of  Partlettsville; 
often,  too,  in  the  old  days,  he  had  been  cuffed 
by  his  father,  and  even  by  his  Grandmammy, 
most  patient  of  souls!  But  this  terrible 
thing,  this  chastisement  in  form  by  the  tall, 
white  gentleman  with  the  stern  lips  and  grave 
67 


58  John  o'  Partletts' 

eyes,  in  his  own  study,  or,  as  Jim  put  it  to 
himself  —  "  in  de  white  folks'  own  pa 'lor!  " 
—  had  something  in  it  ominous  and  soul-sub- 
duing. 

He  lay  in  the  long  grass  and  shivered.  He 
still  seemed  to  see  the  minister's  face,  its 
natural  pallor  accentuated  by  his  black,  close 
trimmed  beard,  and  dark,  smouldering  eyes. 
He  looked  just  as  Jim  had  seen  him  in  the 
pulpit,  preaching,  in  his  Grandmammy's  time. 
Kitty  Merryweather,  too,  sometimes  took 
him  to  church,  and  when  Mr.  Carruthera 
stood  up,  authoritative,  in  his  black  garb,  he 
had  always  seemed  to  Jim  the  very  repre- 
sentative of  all  the  high  powers,  spiritual  and 
temporal. 

Jim  had  not  cried  at  all  for  the  pain  of  his 
punishment;  he  had  been  far  too  terrified 
and  overawed  to  utter  a  sound.  He  did  not 
cry  now,  he  only  lay  in  the  long  grass  and 
whimpered  slightly,  and  he  thought  he  could 
never  face  the  unfriendly  little  world  abcut 
him  again. 

But  there  was  one  person  who  seldom  for- 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  59 

got  about  Jim,  partly  for  reasons  of  his  own, 
partly  because  he  had  been  given  a  general 
order  to  "  keep  a  eye  on  him!  "  And  this 
he  fulfilled  so  well  that  it  may  be  said  not  for 
a  whole  hour  of  any  day  did  he  entirely  lose 
track  of  him. 

Willie  Merryweather  knew  now  where  Jim 
was,  and  informing  some  of  his  choice  com- 
panions that :  ' '  Happen  he  knew  where  Mr. 
Nigger  was  restin'  after  his  last  trick!  "  — 
he  set  off,  accompanied  by  his  sister  Maggie 
and  three  or  four  others  of  the  promising 
youths  of  Partlettsville. 

Suddenly  Jim,  lying  in  the  grass,  heard  a 
snicker  so  near  that  he  started  up,  and  gave 
out  his  usual  alarmed  cry  of  "  Who  dar?  " 

The  grasses  rustled  and  were  still  again; 
and  then  faces  seemed  to  bob  up  all  about 
him,  expressive  of  various  degrees  of  laugh- 
ter or  maliciousness. 

Willie  Merryweather,  suddenly  inspired, 
nudged  the  companion  next  him,  and  whis- 
pered : 

"  Here,    offer    'im    these    fine   pieces    of 


60  John  o'  Partletts' 

candy!  Happen  he's  hungry,  since  he  ain't 
come  home  to  eat  no  dinner.  Offer  'em  per- 
lite!  "he  added. 

The  boy  accordingly  held  out  to  Jim,  on 
the  palm  of  his  hand,  some  tiny  red  glazed- 
looking  bits. 

1 '  Here,  have  a  taste !  "  he  said  in  a  kindly 
voice. 

A  more  astute  person  than  Jim  might  have 
mistrusted.  But  Jim  looked  up;  the  bits 
were  coral  red,  they  looked  pretty  in  the  out- 
stretched hand,  and  the  hand  was  not  Willie 
Merryweather 's.  Jim  took  the  bright  things, 
put  them  into  his  mouth,  and  chewed.  The 
next  instant  the  tears  were  running  down  his 
face;  he  was  gasping  and  spluttering,  while 
a  cackling  of  delight  rose  from  the  grass  on 
all  sides,  and  Willie  Merryweather  was  so 
overcome  by  the  intoxicating  funniness  of  it 
that  he  rolled  over  and  over  in  the  soft 
grasses,  catching,  now  at  them,  now  at  his 
head,  and  crying  out: 

"  Oh  —  my  —  eye !  Oh,  look  —  at  —  him ! 
Oh  —  my  —  eyel  " 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  61 

And  Jim  kept  gasping  and  spluttering, 
with  his  face  comically  twisted  on  one  side, 
while  the  water  was  wrung  from  his  eyes. 

For  what  they  had  given  him  was  not 
candy  at  all,  but  tiny,  hot,  red  peppers ;  and 
if  you  doubt  if  they  are  hot,  try  one  for  your- 
self sometime. 

Now,  the  time  comes  to  every  one  in  this 
world  when  he  has  borne  all  that  he  can. 
When  Jim  cleared  his  vision,  and  the  first 
thing  he  saw  was  Willie  Merryweather's 
usually  pale  face  all  aglow  with  the  most 
exquisite  enjoyment,  he  felt  something  burn 
within  him,  and  his  eyes  blurred  again,  but 
this  time  it  was  not  with  the  hotness  of  the 
peppers. 

"  Yo'  is  de  meanes',  an'  lowes'  downes', 
white  boy  I  is  ever  seen!  "  he  began,  the 
white  of  his  eyes  showing,  and  a  sort  of 
pallor  appearing  under  his  dark  skin.  "  Yes, 
yo'  is!  "  he  went  on,  though  Willie  had 
sprung  to  his  feet.  It  was  the  first  time  Jim 
had  ever  spoken  in  his  own  defence,  and, 
though  he  must  have  felt  the  futility  of  it, 


62  John  o'  Partletts' 

the  impetus  of  his  own  feelings  carried  him 
on.  "  Yes,  yo'  is!  "  he  reiterated.  "  Yo' 
is!  "  shying  a  little  away  from  Willie,  who 
stood  head  and  shoulders  above  him,  and  who 
now  had  taken  an  attitude  of  "  coming 
on." 

"  An'  ef !  "  went  on  Jim,  in  a  last  des- 
perate outburst,  "  I  was  to  tell  de  ha'f  o'  de 
mean  tricks  yo '  dun  play  on  me  — !  " 

But  he  never  told,  nor  did  he  ever  finish  his 
sentence,  for  a  blow  from  Willie's  fist  well 
planted  in  his  chest  sent  him  sprawling;  the 
grass  rustled  under  him,  and  a  few  little  peb- 
bles, dislodged,  sprang  away  and  plumped 
into  the  stream  below. 

"  You'll  back-talk  me,  will  you?  "  asked 
Willie,  standing  over  him,  hands  on  hips,  and 
his  red  hair  on  end.  "  I  guess  not,  you  low 
down  nigger,  you!  The  minister  licked  you 
this  mornin',  an'  I'm  for  keepin'  you  in  your 
place!  Don't  you  budge!  "  as  Jim  made  a 
little  scramble  to  get  up.  "  I'll  keep  you 
there  as  long  as  I've  a  mind  to !  " 

Jim  lay  panting,  looking  helplessly  at  his 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  63 

adversary.  The  other  boys,  following  the 
bully's  lead,  snickered. 

But  one  heart  here  was  moved.  Little 
Maggie  Merryweather,  a  brown-eyed  little 
girl,  with  a  gentle  expression,  stole  forth 
timidly. 

11  Willie,"  she  whispered,  "  let  him  up 
now!  You've  done  enough!  " 

"  An'  what  business  of  yours !  "  cried  Wil- 
lie, flaring  round.  * '  My  eye !  What  busi- 
ness! " 

And  Maggie  retired,  for  Willie  was  su- 
preme ruler  in  their  house.  When  Maggie 
raised  a  protest  Kitty  always  silenced  her 
with :  "  H'm,  an'  what's  you  to  talk?  You'd 
better  be  showin'  respect  for  your  men-folk! 
Happen  you'll  be  asking  your  bread  and  but- 
ter of  him  by  an'  by!  " 

So  Jim's  one  friend  retired,  and  it  ap- 
peared that  there  was  no  one  either  brave 
enough  or  kind  enough  to  raise  a  voice. 

Now  it  happened  that,  at  this  minute,  had 
any  one  looked  up  at  the  bare,  steep  road  that 
led  down  from  Partletts ',  he  would  have  seen 


64  John  o'  Partletts' 

Bomething  crawling  and  zigzagging  slowly 
down  that  incline.  Slowly,  very  slowly,  it 
approached,  and  now  that  it  neared  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  one  could  discern  what  it  was ;  - 
an  old  horse,  lame  in  the  right  fore  leg,  draw- 
ing a  battered  vehicle  which  might  once  have 
been  in  the  nature  of  an  open  carriage,  but 
would  now  unquestionably  be  described  as  a 
rattletrap,  and  on  its  front  seat,  holding  the 
reins,  was  a  figure,  broad,  sturdy,  with  some- 
thing red  wrapped  about  head  and  shoulders 
—  whether  man  or  woman,  at  this  distance, 
could  not  be  said. 

On  came  the  old  carriage  through  the 
bright,  warm  sunshine,  swaying  and  totter- 
ing, then  rattling  most  fearfully  as  it  turned 
into  the  hard  road ;  for  every  joint  was  creak- 
ing, every  spring  broken,  and  the  wheels 
turned  wearily  and  uncertainly,  as  if  every 
revolution  would  be  their  last. 

A  crazy  sight !  But  no  one  saw  it,  for  the 
eyes  of  every  one  in  the  little  group  about 
Jim  were  fastened  on  Willie  Merryweather, 
to  see  what  he  would  next  do. 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  65 

Willie,  thus  situated,  feeling  himself  the 
hero  of  the  hour,  intended  to  rise  to  the  oc- 
casion; he  intended  to  do  something  manly 
and  surprising ;  he  wished  to  amaze  them  all, 
and  give  them  something  to  talk  about.  His 
flushed  face  gradually  paled,  so  that  his 
freckles  stood  out  plainly,  and  a  queer  sort  of 
livid  white  appeared  about  his  nose  and 
mouth.  Little  Maggie  could  have  told  the 
meaning  of  that  look;  it  meant  that  he  was 
about  to  do  the  very  meanest  thing  that  he 
could  think  of.  In  fact  Willie  would  not 
have  dared  do  what  he  contemplated,  save  for 
the  fact  that  Jim  had  been  punished  by  Mr. 
Carruthers.  If  he  was  in  disfavor  with  the 
minister  he  was  indeed  a  criminal,  ancLshould 
be  treated  as  such  by  right-minded  persons. 
This  would  be  as  clear  as  day  to  every  one ; 
and  he  even  felt  a  sort  of  lordly  expansion, 
as  if  he  were,  in  a  way,  seconding  the  efforts 
of  an  infallible  power. 

Suddenly  he  stood  away  from  Jim,  and 
said: 

"  Stand  up!" 


66  John  o'  Partletts' 

It  was  hard  to  obey  such  a  master,  and 
Jim  hesitated,  but  Willie  making  a  suggestive 
movement  with  his  foot,  he  arose. 

"  Now  I!m  going  to  do  something  that'll 
surprise  you.  You  won't  like  it,  but  it'll  be 
good  for  you ! '' '  said  Willie,  winking  at  the 
others.  "  Now,  you  do  just  as  I  tell  youl 
Every  time  I  count,  you  step  back  a  pace,  I 
follows,  an'  we  see  what  'appens!  Now, — 
one!  " 

Jim  stepped  backward  a  pace,  and  Willie 
forward. 

' '  Two !  ' '  And  they  stood  looking  at  each 
other,  Willie  grinning  now,  and  Jim's  eyes 
round  with  anxiety. 

"Three!    Four!" 

"  I  can't  go  no  furder!  "  exclaimed  Jim, 
glancing  over  his  shoulder,  and  seeing  the 
edge  of  the  river-bank  right  behind  him. 

"  You  ain't  asked  to !  "  supplemented  Wil- 
lie, and  before  any  one  could  draw  breath 
there  was  a  splash  and  a  splutter,  and  a  cry 
of  terror  from  the  water  and  one  of  amaze- 
ment from  the  bank.  For  the  second  time, 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  67 

Willie  had  planted  Ms  fist  in  Jim's  chest,  and 
the  little  darkey  had  doubled  up  like  a  clasp- 
knife  and  gone  over  backwards  into  the  shal- 
low, swift-flowing  little  stream. 

For  just  an  instant  there  was  a  dead  si- 
lence, and  then  it  was  broken  by  a  strong, 
hoarse  voice,  which  had  a  deep  vibration  in 
it. 

"  Now,  what  is  the  meaning  of  that!  "  it 
asked. 

The  consternation  in  the  little  group  was 
immediate;  every  one  turned,  and  Willie 
Merryweather  whirled  around,  surprised 
into  uttering  an  oath,  —  a  luxury  he  did  not 
often  allow  himself,  because  he  had  a  good 
voice,  and  was  proud  of  singing  in  the  church 
choir ;  should  the  minister  hear  he  swore,  he 
would  not  be  allowed  to  appear  there  again. 

All  gazed,  and  no  wonder!  The  fantastic 
old  vehicle  had  come  up  to  them  and  stopped. 
The  old  horse  stood  shuffling  his  feet  in  the 
dust ;  the  figure  in  the  front  seat  had  arisen, 
thrown  back  the  red  drapery,  which  appeared 
much  like  an  ancient  piece  of  patchwork,  ex- 


68  John  o'  Partletts' 

posing  a  head  tightly  wound  round  with  a 
long  strip  of  red  cambric  in  place  of  a  hat; 
and  strong,  bronzed,  hawk-like  features. 

All  were  somewhat  impressed,  and  all  ap- 
peared frightened.  The  smaller  children 
jumped  back  behind  the  long  grass. 

"  Witch  Beevish!  The  old  Witch!  "  was 
whispered. 

"  What  was  that  done  for?  "  came  the 
strong  voice  again,  and  the  strange  figure 
stood,  pointing  at  Willie  Merryweather. 
* '  You  —  you,  who  did  the  deed,  answer 
me!" 

"I  — I,  er—  "  he  began.  But  Witch 
Beevish  had  laid  down  the  reins  and  was 
already  climbing  out  of  her  equipage.  A  dif- 
ficult performance,  for.  now  it  was  to  be  seen 
that  she  was  a  stout,  broad  woman,  very 
heavily  made,  and,  as  she  grasped  the  side  of 
the  seat  and  reached  with  her  foot  for  the 
step,  the  whole  edifice  tottered,  shook  and 
careened  as  if  it  must  surely  topple  over 
sidewise  with  her  weight  and  end  its  long 
career  of  usefulness  here  in  the  dust. 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  69 

But  she  reached  earth  without  accident, 
and  walked  forward. 

"  Child!  "  she  cried  in  a  loud  voice  to  the 
invisible  Jim;  "  child,  come  out  of  that 
water!  " 

But  from  the  bank  there  came  no  move- 
ment. Jim  was  too  frightened  to  appear. 
Others  were  frightened  too,  and  the  long 
grass  shook  as  Willie's  retainers  quickly 
crept  away,  some  on  all  fours.  Now,  Willie 
was  no  warrior  bold.  Seeing  himself  left 
alone,  he  thought  it  best  in  this  emergency 
to  disappear  also.  But  at  the  first  move  a 
grasp  was  laid  on  him,  so  strong  and  deter- 
mined that  he  realized  there  was  no  use  in 
battling.  He  resigned  himself  with  a  sulky 
air,  and,  under  her  guidance,  moved  to  the 
edge  of  the  bank  with  "  Witch  Beevish." 

There,  cowering  behind  a  big  stone,  was  a 
little  black,  dripping  figure.  The  woman 
looked  a  moment,  then  held  out  her  hand. 

'  *  Come,  child !  ' '  she  said  again  in  her  com- 
manding voice,  and  she  half  pulled,  half  sup- 
ported Jim  up  the  bank.  He  stood  dripping 


70 


and  sniffling,  bent  over,  looking  very  small. 
"  Now,"  she  said,  pointing  first  to  Jim,  then 
to  the  stream,  and  speaking  very  distinctly, 
"  why  did  you  throw  that  boy  in  there?  " 

"  Because,"  said  Willie,  trying  to  appear 
dignified,  "  because  he's  a  bad  un!  " 

'  *  How  is  he  a  '  bad  un  '  ?  " 

"  He  lives  with  my  mother,  and  he  won't 
work  for  her!  " 

"  Oh!  "  exclaimed  the  old  woman,  looking 
keenly  at  him,  and  slightly  winking  her  eyes 
with  an  expression  of  assumed  astonishment. 
"  Is  that  so?  Yes,  I've  heard  he  lives  with 
your  mother,  and  I'll  warrant  one  thing  — 
if  he  lives  with  her,  he  works  for  her !  ' '  she 
added  emphatically. 

In  assisting  Jim  she  had  been  obliged  to 
release  Willie's  arm ;  he  had  gradually  edged 
further  and  further  from  her,  until  now,  out 
of  arm's  reach,  he  began  to  feel  bold 
again. 

"  Well,  as  happens,  it  don't  matter  what 
you  think !  "  he  remarked  impudently.  ' '  No- 
body cares  what  you  think!  An'  nobody's 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  71 

goin'  to  take  sides  with  'im  either.  It's 
proved  he 's  a  bad  un,  —  the  minister  hisself 
licked  him  this  mornin'!  " 

The  woman  flashed  a  look  at  him,  and  it 
could  be  seen  that  her  eyes  were  dark  blue 
and  vivid. 

"  Him?    What  for?  "  she  asked  slowly. 

"  'Cause,"  said  Willie,  beginning  to 
chuckle,  and  pointing  at  Jim,  ' '  when  he  was 
alone  in  the  garden,  a  basket  o'  grapes  — 
finest  of  the  crop  —  is  spilled,  knocked  over, 
trompled  on!  An'  Mr.  Carruthers,  when  he 
finds  it  out,  didn't  he  give  it  to  him  though! 
Didn't  he  wallop  him!  " 

"  Whipped  him!  "  said  the  woman,  point- 
ing to  the  figure  of  little  Jim,  which  could 
be  seen  plainly  beneath  his  thin,  dripping 
clothes,  —  "  for  a  basket  of  grapes !  Faugh ! 
Fine  work!  Fine!  "  she  went  on,  her  face 
beginning  to  twitch,  and  her  eyes  seeming  to 
concentrate  themselves  into  two  points  of 
blue  fire,  while  she  turned  toward  the  par- 
sonage, and  shook  her  fist  in  its  direction. 
' '  Your  grapes  were  spoiled,  yours,  you  mas- 


72  John  o'  Partletts' 

ter  of  souls !  You  salt  of  the  earth !  Yes,  I 
know  you,  and  your  kind !  —  your  hearts  are 
as  hard  as  flint!  And  do  you  suppose  that 
God  hears  your  prayers  ?  —  a  God  of  kind- 
ness — !  "  But  her  discourse  was  suddenly 
interrupted  by  a  low  voice : 

"  An'  there's  not  a  doubt,  ma'am,  but 
you're  much  better  acquainted  with  the  Lord 
Almighty,  than  the  parson  is!  "  said  the 
voice  in  a  respectful  tone. 

The  old  woman  started;  she  turned  with 
the  quickness  of  lightning  and  grasped  at 
the  mocking  boy.  But  he  was  already  in  the 
road,  doubled  over  with  laughter. 

"  A  fine  preachin'!  Fine!  "  he  shouted. 
"  An'  now  I  must  be  biddin'  you  good-by. 
As  for  you —  "  he  said  to  Jim,  "  we'll  be 
seein'  you  at  our  'ouse  later,  an'  my  mother '11 
'tend  to  you!  Good-by,  fossil!  "  he  finished, 
striking  at  the  old  horse,  which  had  stood 
during  the  whole  encounter,  its  head  lowered, 
fast  asleep. 

He  had  already  started  on  a  run,  and  his 
stroke  at  the  horse's  head  missed.  But  the 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  73 

woman  saw,  and,  with  a  quickness  which  was 
wonderful,  she  sprang  over  the  grass  and 
into  the  road.  She  missed  Willie  by  a  hand's 
length ;  her  face  was  flaming  with  anger  and 
excitement,  and  her  outstretched  fingers 
trembled. 

"  If  I  had  caught  you!  "  she  muttered. 

A  loud  laugh  of  derision  answered,  and 
Willie's  fleeing  heels  disappeared  in  a  cloud 
of  sunlit  dust. 

For  fully  a  minute  the  woman  stood  look- 
ing at  the  bare,  plain  little  town  as  it  lay 
outspread  in  the  sunlight,  an  expression  of 
defiance  and  bitterness  on  her  compressed 
lips,  as  if  she  would  have  challenged  the  very 
houses  to  come  forth  and  do  battle.  Then 
she  turned,  her  eyes  rested  on  the  miserable, 
shrinking  figure  of  little  Jim,  and  her  face 
gradually  changed. 

"  Come,  child,"  she  said.  "  Come  home 
with  me  in  my  carriage,"  and  drawing  her- 
self up  and  straightening  the  strange  crim- 
son headdress,  she  took  Jim's  hand.  "  There, 


74  John  o'  Partletts' 

jump  in,  and  I  will  cover  you  with  the 
robe." 

It  was  true  that  as  Jim  stepped  on  to  the 
floor  of  the  strange  vehicle  a  loose  board  flew 
up  and  all  but  struck  him  in  the  face,  and  the 
"  robe  "  consisted  of  the  old  patchwork  dra- 
pery. But  Jim  was  scarcely  one  to  criticize. 
He  sat  in  the  back  seat,  wrapped  in  the  robe, 
which,  after  all,  was  warm,  gazing  dumbly  at 
the  square,  firm  shoulders  in  front  of  him,  in 
a  kind  of  trance,  too  cold,  frightened  and 
bewildered  to  think  or  even  to  observe. 

They  went  what  seemed  a  long,  long  dis- 
tance, the  old  horse  always  at  a  walk,  along 
the  highroad,  circling  the  whole  hill  of  Part- 
letts', and  then  crossing  a  little  bridge  and 
turning  into  the  woods,  they  began  gradually 
to  ascend  it.  Partlettsville  was  no  longer  in 
sight ;  this  was  the  side  of  the  hill  hidden  from 
the  town,  nor  was  there  any  house  in  sight, 
only  the  narrow  road,  and  trees  upon  trees, 
firs,  pine,  dogwood  turning  bright  red  and 
covered  with  scarlet  berries,  great  sycamores 
and  chestnuts,  all  clustering  close,  and  slo- 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts*  75 

ping  away  down  the  hillside  in  a  great  mass 
of  autumn  glory. 

The  sun  was  beginning  to  decline;  its 
golden  rays  became  red ;  a  bright  mist  gath- 
ered, crept  up  the  valley  and  clung  among 
the  tree-tops,  dim  and  purplish,  softening 
all. 

Jim  had  begun  to  feel  aroused.  He  was 
looking  about  him,  at  the  clustering  trees,  at 
the  dogwood  that  made  him  think  of  home, 
at  the  golden-rod  that  grew  along  the  road 
as  high  as  the  carriage  wheels.  Suddenly  he 
gave  a  cry. 

They  had  turned  a  bend  in  the  road ;  there 
was  a  wide  opening  between  the  heavy 
growth  of  trees,  and  there,  in  the  near  dis- 
tance, stood  a  tiny  cottage  covered  with  vines, 
and  all  about  it  bloomed  a  garden  —  such  a 
garden!  Salvias,  asters,  chrysanthemums 
were  banked  together  in  a  luxuriant  confu- 
sion,—  all  lying  dim  in  the  last  gentle  rays 
of  the  sun,  like  a  fairy  plantation.  And, 
sloping  away  from  it,  down  the  hillside,  the 
heavy  forest  of  trees  with  all  their  changing 


76  John  o'  Partletts' 

shades,  down,  down,  miles  away  to  where  a 
tiny  white  shelf  of  beach  could  be  seen,  and 
beyond,  softly  surging,  reflecting  the  lights 
of  the  bright  evening  sky  on  its  deep,  deep 
blue  breast  flecked  with  white,  rolled  the 
ocean!  Already,  far  down  there,  scores  of 
little  lights  were  beginning  to  glow  out  from 
cottages  and  fishers'  huts  along  the  beach, 
and  though  they  were  miles  away  there  was 
an  inexpressible  charm  and  friendliness  in 
their  appearance. 

The  old  woman  drew  up  her  horse;  she 
turned  and  looked  at  Jim,  and  after  a  glance 
at  his  little  black,  staring  face,  she  slightly 
smiled. 

11  That,"  she  said,  extending  her  arm,  and 
speaking  with  a  peculiar  mixture  of  gentle- 
ness and  pride,  "  is  mine!  All  mine,  to  en- 
joy, to  watch,  and  to  love!  Those  over 
there,'*  she  added  with  scorn,  pointing  to  the 
brow  of  the  hill  above  them,  below  which, 
far  in  the  valley  on  the  other  side,  lay  Part- 
lettsville,  "  they  know  nothing  of  it,  care 
nothing  for  it.  All  they  know  is  that  this  is 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  77 

a  steep  place,  hard  to  get  at,  impossible,  they 
call  it,  in  winter.  Why,  one  hour  here  is 
worth  a  lifetime  in  their  bleak  little  hole  I 
Child,  when  I  came  here  I  would  have  been 
their  friend,  they  could  have  been  mine;  I 
wanted  friends,  God  knows !  But  they  would 
have  none  of  me !  People  about  here  say  that 
Partlettsville  was  built  on  the  wrong  side  of 
the  hill,  but  I  say,  no!  It  was  built  on  the 
right  side!  Those  people  down  there,  they 
have  narrow,  cold  souls!  Why,  then,*'  she 
exclaimed  vehemently,  "  should  the  bright- 
est sunshine  fall  on  them?  Or  nature  bloom 
for  them?  Nature,"  she  said,  looking  at  Jim, 
and  nodding  her  head  emphatically,  "  blooms 
for  those  who  love  her.  No,  no,  let  be  —  let 
be!  They  belong  there,  and  I  here.  And, 
thank  God,  I  have  it,  in  its  beauty,  alone  I 
Mine,  child,  mine !  My  home !  ' '  She  finished 
with  passion,  tears  beginning  to  course  her 
cheeks.  She  put  up  her  hand  and  straight- 
ened her  strange  headdress,  her  strong  old 
face  drawn  by  some  inward  agitation,  her 
eyes  flashing,  and  her  hawk-like  profile  stand- 


78  John  o'  Partletts' 

ing  out  clear,  sharp,  and  stern  as  a  man's  in 
the  glow  of  the  waning  light. 

Had  any  of  those  of  whom  she  spoke  seen 
her  at  this  moment  they  would  undoubtedly 
have  declared  that  the  old  Witch  was  in  one 
of  her  crazy  spells ! 

But,  as  it  was,  her  audience  was  not  crit- 
ical. True,  Jim  saw  in  her  a  strange  being, 
but  he  also  saw  in  her  a  rescuer.  He  had 
heard  that  she  was  crazy,  but  the  simple 
child  did  not  fear  her.  He  looked  at  her  with 
a  kind  of  innocent  wonder,  and  he  felt  con- 
fidence in  her.  She  had  brought  him  to  a 
beautiful  place ;  —  the  most  beautiful  place 
he  had  seen  since  he  left  his  far-off  home. 
He  gathered  that  she  hated  and  even  feared 
the  people  of  Partlettsville ;  he,  too,  hated 
and  feared  them ;  and  he  saw  from  her  looks 
that  all  the  beauty  that  was  spread  about 
them  was  dear  to  her.  And  deep,  deep  down 
in  his  heart,  he  understood  that  feeling, 
though  he  could  not  tell  of  it,  and  had  no 
way  of  showing  it.  No,  he  had  no  way  of 
showing  it,  but  as  the  old  woman  looked  into 


Jim  Goes  to  Partletts'  79 

his  little  black  face,  which  had  a  sort  of 
happy,  awed  expression  upon  it,  she  picked 
up  the  reins  with  a  look  of  satisfaction  and 
turned  the  old  horse  toward  the  tiny  cottage. 


CHAPTER   VH 

JOHN 

IT  was  on  the  very  edge  of  Winter ;  already 
the  little  stream  that  flowed  round  Partletts- 
ville  appeared  motionless,  covered  with  a 
thin  coating  of  ice.  The  fall  winds  had 
stripped  the  last  leaves  from  the  old  willows 
that  bordered  the  high  road,  and  their  thin, 
whip-like  branches  swayed  and  rattled  mourn- 
fully. The  inhabitants  of  Partlettsville, 
looking  up  at  the  great  hill,  saw  only  trees 
stripped  of  their  bright  foliage,  save  at  the 
very  top,  where  a  few  tall  firs,  and  the  big 
pine  and  the  little  one,  stood  up  as  green  as 
ever  against  the  sky. 

Nothing  much  ever  happened  in  Partletts- 
ville, but  now  something  had  happened.  The 
old  French  shoemaker  who  had  lived  here 
for  five  years  —  it  was  said,  on  nothing,  be- 
cause he  spent  so  little  —  but  who  had  done 

so 


John  81 

a  good  business,  and  saved  money,  had 
moved  away.  Some  said  he  had  saved  a 
fortune;  that  he  was  going  back  to  Prance; 
but  others  said  this  was  no  such  thing, — 
he  was  merely  moving  a  matter  of  a  score 
of  miles  or  so,  up  the  road,  to  a  bigger  town, 
and  a  bigger  business.  Probably  a  correct 
guess  this;  for  he  sold  none  of  his  belong- 
ings, taking  all  with  him,  down  to  every  least 
scrap  of  kindling  wood;  down,  it  was  said, 
to  a  bundle  of  old  rags  and  a  lot  of  empty 
match  boxes.  For  old  Simon  under  no  cir- 
cumstances ever  threw  away  a  thing. 

There  was  one  possession  of  his,  however, 
which  he  did  leave  behind;  it  had  been  ex- 
tremely useful  to  him  during  the  five  years 
that  he  had  lived  in  the  little  house,  and,  — 
either  there  could  have  been  no  room  for  it 
in  the  cart,  or  else  he  was  assured  he  could 
replace  it  where  he  was  going,  or  very  likely 
it  chanced  that  its  day  of  usefulness  was  over 
for  him.  At  any  rate,  this  one  possession  the 
old  French  miser  left  behind  him,  —  his  dog. 

As  he  was  about  to  climb  into  the  furni- 


82  John  o'  Partletts' 

ture  cart  he  had  looked  over  the  gate  into 
the  dog's  face. 

"  Mind  ze  place,  John  Frenchy,  mon  gar- 
gonf  "  he  had  said  with  a  grin,  "  until  you 
see  me  again !  And  zat  will  be  ze  long,  long 
time !  "  he  added.  Then  he  climbed  into  the 
cart,  sat  himself  down  beside  the  driver, 
took  out  his  pipe,  and  went  off,  without  once 
troubling  to  look  back.  And  John  Frenchy, 
seated  in  the  walk  before  the  tiny  cottage, 
understood  well  the  first  part  of  the  injunc- 
tion, which  had  been  given  him  many  times 
before,  but  the  latter  part  he  understood  not 
at  all. 

This  John  Frenchy  was  the  biggest  and 
ugliest  cur  that  the  inhabitants  of  Partletts- 
ville  had  ever  seen.  Kitty  was  right  when 
she  informed  Jim  that  he  was  "  the  fierc- 
est ever  you  saw!  "  Perhaps  he  was  about 
the  fiercest  and  ugliest  that  anybody  ever 
saw.  And  he  had  a  temper  that  matched 
his  outside.  He  had  been  given  to  Simon 
by  a  French  peddler,  a  tramp,  who  passed 
through  the  town  years  before;  and  it  was 


John  83 

evident  that  in  his  youth  some  one  had  used 
him  ill. 

Some  one,  when  he  was  a  puppy  —  per- 
haps it  was  the  peddler  —  had  ' '  trimmed 
him  up."  His  tail  had  been  cut  off  at  the 
root.  Literally,  he  had  no  tail  at  all,  not 
even  a  stump ;  and  he  was  in  much  the  same 
case  as  to  ears.  Where  these  should  have 
been  there  were  only  to  be  found  little  ridges 
under  the  fur.  Perhaps  it  was  this  that 
interfered  with  his  hearing,  or,  perhaps,  he 
had  been  born  partially  deaf ;  at  any  rate,  he 
heard  very  ill,  but  he  made  up  for  this  by 
the  keenest  scent  in  the  world. 

He  was  a  mongrel,  with  tawny  hair,  heavy 
and  rather  shaggy,  striped  here  and  there 
with  black,  especially  about  the  face;  here 
the  black  streaks  came  down  between  his 
brows,  looking  like  furrows  and  giving  him 
all  the  appearance  of  scowling  most  horri- 
bly; his  rather  small,  bright,  spiteful,  sus- 
picious eyes  carried  out  the  impression  of 
a  scowl,  and  his  whole,  great,  earless  head 
was  fearsome,  especially  when,  as  was  often 


84  John  o'  Partletts' 

the  case,  the  lips  were  drawn  back  in  a  snarl, 
exposing  the  long  fangs  on  either  side  of  the 
big  mouth. 

Old  Simon  had  accepted  him  from  the  ped- 
dler because  of  his  evil  temper.  The  old 
man,  like  all  misers,  kept  every  cent  of  his 
money  hidden  in  his  house.  This  was  well 
known,  and  country  credulity  had  swelled  the 
amount  of  his  savings  into  something  quite 
vast  for  this  little  corner  of  the  world.  The 
old  man,  before  the  coming  of  the  dog,  had 
never  felt  quite  comfortable;  after  he  came 
he  never  gave  himself  a  moment's  uneasi- 
ness at  home  or  abroad ;  John  Frenchy  could 
and  would  have  kept  at  bay  a  small  army  — 
or,  to  be  more  practical  and  explicit,  he 
would  have  throttled  without  the  slightest 
hesitation  any  one  who  had  stepped  foot, 
uninvited,  within  the  old  man's  gate.  Not 
only  did  he  protect  house  and  yard  but  he 
considered  that  he  and  his  master  owned  the 
road  before  it,  so  that  pedestrians  had  to 
make  a  detour,  and  the  grass  grew  on  the 
little  dirt  sidewalk  before  the  cottage. 


John  85 

As  may  be  believed,  this  did  not  increase 
his  popularity  among  the  inhabitants  of 
Partlettsville,  but  it  suited  old  Simon.  He 
would  chuckle  and  grin  when  the  dog's  great 
bellow  warned  him  of  some  approach,  and 
run  out  on  his  little  porch,  rubbing  his 
hands,  and  crying  out: 

"  John  Frenchy,  mon  gargon,  he  comes  to 
me  on  business,  —  let  him  pass!  "  And  to 
the  visitor :  * '  You  do  well  to  hesitate,  to  wait 
for  ze  pear-misse-on !  He  would  kill  you,  ze 
John  Frenchy,  he  would  kill  you!  " 

And  no  one,  looking  in-to  John  Frenchy 's 
face,  made  the  slightest  doubt  of  the  matter. 

And  then,  when  old  Simon  was  going  out, 
it  was  always  with  a  meaning  grin: 

"  Keep  ze  place  for  me,  John  Frenchy! 
Keep  house  for  me,  mon  ex-ze-lent  gargon!  ' 

And  this  John  Frenchy  invariably  had 
done,  and  this  he  proceeded  to  do  on  the 
present  occasion  —  only  the  absence  of  his 
master  was  very,  very  long ! 

All  during  the  Fall,  John  Frenchy  spent 
his  time  sitting  in  the  little  path  and  watch- 


86  John  o'  Partletts' 

ing,  then  stalking  to  the  big  hogshead,  turned 
over  on  its  side,  which  served  him  for  a  ken- 
nel, and  again  watching.  And  how  much  he 
comprehended  of  the  passage  of  time  is  not 
recorded.  But  there  is  one  sure  timepiece 
for  man  and  beast  —  hunger.  When  John 
Frenchy  watched  his  house  until  he  became 
ravenous  he  would  make  a  dash  up  the  hill 
of  Partletts',  scent  out  a  rabbit,  secure  it, 
and  come  loping  home,  the  dead  thing  hang- 
ing from  his  mouth,  retire  to  his  hogshead 
bristling  and  growling  to  himself,  and  de- 
vour every  morsel,  bones  and  all,  with  the 
exception  perhaps  of  a  few  shreds  of  fur. 
Woe  betide  any  creature  who  had  come  near 
him  then!  And  those  who  saw  him  in  the 
distance,  coming  down  the  hillside  after  one 
of  his  forays,  his  bloody  prey  in  his  mouth, 
shuddered  as  if  they  had  seen  a  wolf  or  other 
wild  creature. 

And,  indeed,  the  great  mongrel  began 
somewhat  to  wear  that  appearance ;  he  grew 
so  lean  that  his  body  looked  long  and  sinewy ; 
his  eyes  and  face  became  fiercer;  at  the 


John  87 

sound  of  human  voices,  even  on  the  high- 
road, his  stiff  hair  bristled,  and  he  gave  out 
his  furious  bellow. 

He  barked  most  of  the  time  now,  and  the 
heavy,  deep  reverberation  seemed  to  ring 
against  the  hill  and  echo  back  over  the  little 
town. 

"  Pity  as  somebody  don't  put  a  load  o' 
lead  into  him !  ' '  remarked  Gus  Schaf tsmire, 
the  butcher's  son,  —  a  fair-haired  youth  of 
about  nineteen,  who  prided  himself  on  being 
a  sport  and  understanding  something  of  the 
breeding  and  points  of  dogs.  "  He's  the 
lowest-down  lookin'  scoundrel  ever  I  see! 
And  you  can  bet  your  life,  with  all  his  size 
and  noise,  a  dirty  coward  at  heart !  I  never 
see  one  of  them  curs  but  what  he  was  a  cow- 
ard! It  stands  to  reason  a  dog  can't  have 
no  quality  when  he  ain  't  got  no  good  blood !  ' ' 

It  was  to  be  observed,  however,  that,  in 
delivering  his  orders,  Mr.  Gus  made  as  wide 
a  detour  around  John  Frenchy's  abode  as 
any  one. 

"  An'  what's  the  reason  of  his  infernal 


88  John  o'  Partletts' 

barkin'  over  nothin'?  "  some  one  asked. 
"  He  never  used  to  do  so.'* 

"  Lonesomeness,  most  like,"  answered 
Gus  contemptuously.  "  When  dogs  is  lone- 
some, they  mostly  barks.  Not  havin'  nobody 
to  speak  to,  you  see,"  he  added  facetiously, 
"  he  just  nacherly  wants  to  hear  the  sound 
of  his  own  voice." 

One  day,  wishing  to  show  his  contempt  for 
the  now  cadaverous-looking  beast,  and  fancy- 
ing himself  quite  at  a  safe  distance^  Gus 
stood  up  in  his  wagon,  threw  a  stone,  which 
struck  on  John  Frenchy's  hogshead  kennel, 
and  drove  away,  chuckling,  at  top  speed. 
But  the  chuckle  died  in  his  throat.  The 
great  beast  leaped  out  at  the  challenge ;  every 
hair  on  end,  he  placed  his  assailant  instantly 
and  was  over  the  fence  and  after  the  wagon, 
his  eyes  blazing  and  his  tongue  lolling  from 
the  side  of  his  mouth.  Gus  did  not  stop  to 
try  out  whether  John  Frenchy  was  a  coward 
or  not!  Leaning  over  the  dashboard,  he 
began  to  lash  his  horse.  And  soon  the 
strange  spectacle  was  seen  rushing  down  the 


John  89 

quiet  street  of  Partlettsville,  Gus,  his  florid 
face  very  white,  leaning  over  his  horse,  lash- 
ing it  across  the  neck,  and  a  few  rods  behind, 
John  Frenchy,  lean,  bristling,  his  eyes  rolled 
up  with  deadly  meaning  upon  the  man. 

Not  a  second  too  soon  did  Gus  reach  his 
father's  shop,  leap  across  the  pavement,  and 
slam  the  door.  For,  with  the  fall  of  the 
latch,  John  Frenchy 's  body  was  heard  to 
crash  against  the  wood,  and  those  who  were 
spectators  to  this  scene  declared  that  if  the 
dog  had  been  at  all  in  proper  form,  without 
a  doubt  he  would  have  caught  the  youth. 

"  An'  what  would  'a'  happened  then?  " 
was  asked  significantly. 

Gus  had  always  hated  John  Frenchy  with, 
as  it  were,  a  sporting  hatred,  because  he  was 
low-bred,  and  had  no  "  form  "  or  "  points;  " 
but  after  this  he  hated  him  with  a  personal 
hatred.  And,  the  excitement  once  over,  there 
was  no  lack  of  those  who  put  their  tongues 
in  their  cheeks,  and  said : 

"  Coward  —  eh,  Gussy!  But  who  done  the 
runnin',  Gussy  f  kWho  done  the  nmnin'T  " 


90  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  An'  if  I'd  a  gun  in  my  hands,  do  you 
suppose  I'd  'a'  run?  "  shouted  the  valiant 
Schaftsmire. 

"  Well!  "  some  one  would  bring  out  with 
a  wink,  "  you  had  your  whip,  hadn't  you!  ' 

* '  Whip !  Huh !  —  if  you  'd  seen  the  face 
of  him!  "  the  other  would  reply  surlily; 
and  then,  his  florid  face  flushing  with  mor- 
tification, "  but  I'll  get  up  with  him  some 
day!  " 

After  this  adventure  it  was  felt  by  all  that 
it  was  a  dangerous  matter  for  such  a  fero- 
cious, wild-like  creature  to  be  at  large. 
There  followed  a  great  fastening  up  of 
gates,  lest  he  might  prowl;  and  if,  impelled 
by  hunger,  he  showed  his  tawny  hide  near 
a  dwelling,  there  was  such  a  scuttling  indoors 
and  rain  of  missiles  from  windows  as  would 
have  done  honor  to  a  jungle  tiger  him- 
self. 

But  this  happened  less  and  less  often.  The 
more  John  Frenchy  was  shunned,  the  more- 
he  shunned  others.  In  the  first  place,  he  had 
been  taught  by  his  old  master  to  regard 


John  91 

these  people  with  suspicion;  in  the  second, 
though  he  was  hideous,  and  a  mongrel  from 
his  head  to  his  heels,  yet  he  had  a  pride  of  his 
own.  He  visited  the  back  yards  and  scrap 
pans  of  Partlettsville  far  less  often  than  any 
of  the  owners  thereof  could  have  been 
brought  to  believe. 

No,  he  fell  back  on  wild  things,  and  his 
ability  to  kill.  Wild  prey  for  the  wild  dog! 
The  serious  trouble  with  this  was,  that  so 
near  the  habitations  of  man,  within  the 
sound  of  voices,  and  sight  of  chimneys,  there 
was  a  decidedly  meagre  supply  of  wild  prey. 
Had  he  roamed  far,  over  the  opposite  side 
of  the  hill  of  Partletts',  beyond  the  Witch's 
house,  into  the  lonely  woods  that  sloped 
toward  the  ocean,  he  would  have  found  what 
he  needed  a-plenty.  But  he  kept  to  the  near 
side  of  the  hill;  for  John  Frenchy  had  it 
fixed  firmly  in  his  dog's  brain  that  he  was 
watching  the  house  for  his  master,  and  along 
the  whole  of  this  side  of  the  hill  he  could 
keep  the  deserted  house  and  tiny  yard  within 
his  sight. 


92  John  o'  Partletts' 

The  person  who  oftenest  saw  him  on  his 
forays  was  Will  Michaelson,  a  wood-cutter, 
who  often  stole  up  the  side  of  the  hill  at  night 
and  felled  a  tree,  because  the  owner  of  all 
this  property  never  came  near  it,  and  one 
might  as  well  have  the  benefit  of  a  little 
kindling  wood!  The  only  person  he  feared 
was  Witch  Beevish ;  she  loved  every  tree  on 
the  hill,  and  raised  such  a  clamor  when  one 
was  felled,  that,  to  get  rid  of  her  long  tongue, 
he  performed  his  business  at  night.  It  was 
true  she  had  nothing  to  do  with  all  this  prop- 
erty; it  was  even  said  that  the  papers  she 
held  to  her  own  bit  of  land  were  not  good; 
but  she  behaved  as  if  all  were  hers,  and  pro- 
tected it  as  such. 

Michaelson  saw  the  wild  dog,  as  he  had 
come  to  be  called,  night  after  night,  nosing 
through  the  leaves  and  underbrush,  breath- 
ing and  panting  hard  as  he  burrowed  for  his 
infrequent  prey,  and  he  gave  him  a  wide 
berth.  But  once  he  had  the  scare  of  his 
life. 

The  night  was  overcast.    It  chanced  that 


John  93 

the  dog  had  been  progressing  silently ;  so  had 
Michaelson,  when  suddenly  the  moon  broke 
through  a  rift,  and  there  they  were,  face  to 
face,  in  the  narrow  wood  track!  Michaelson 
said  that  the  dog's  eyes  were  bloodshot,  his 
lips  slobbering,  and  his  whole  face  hunger- 
pinched  and  wildly  intent  upon  the  scent  of 
some  prey.  He  flung  up  his  head  when  he 
saw  his  way  blocked,  and  Michaelson  be- 
lieved that,  deaf  as  the  dog  was,  and  having 
the  scent  of  his  prey  in  his  nostrils,  he  had 
not  been  conscious  of  any  other  presence 
until  the  moonlight  revealed  the  man  before 
him.  However  that  might  be,  he  glared  with 
the  most  awful  expression  of  fury  and  dis- 
appointment. For  one  moment  Michaelson 
thought  he  would  spring  at  his  throat,  the 
next,  he  turned  with  a  snarl  and  crashed 
away  through  the  underbrush. 

After  this  Michaelson  took  little  pleasure 
in  his  nightly  excursions. 

"  I  tell  you,  there  ain't  room  enough  for 
me  an'  that  feller  on  the  hillside,"  he  re- 
marked emphatically. 


John  o'  Partletts' 


"  Set  a  trap,"  some  one  advised  sagely. 

"  An'  so  I  will,"  he  assented,  looking  a 
little  puzzled  as  to  how  this  was  to  be  accom- 
plished. 

It  happened  soon  after  this  that,  John 
Frenchy  being  lamed,  it  was  set  down  by 
many  to  be  the  dexterous  work  of  Michael- 
son.  Others,  however,  declared  that  the  dog 
had  been  wounded  by  Gus  Schaftsmire,  who 
constantly  carried  a  gun  under  the  seat  of 
his  wagon,  and  had  long  declared  he  would 
shoot  if  he  came  within  close  range.  Neither 
of  these  worthies  denied  the  impeachment, 
and  each  received  credit  from  his  particular 
friends  for  being  bold  and  clever  enough  to 
do  up  the  big  beast. 

He  was  done  up,  sure  enough,  it  was  plain 
to  be  seen. 

Standing  on  the  highroad,  one  could  look 
over  the  flat  meadows  and  get  a  view  of  John 
Frenchy 's  yard  and  all  that  went  on  there. 
Any  one  watching  at  this  time  could  see  John 
Frenchy  come  out  of  his  hogshead,  make  a 
painful  hobble  or  two,  and  sink  back  upon 


John  95 

his  haunches.  He  could  be  seen,  too,  to  nib- 
ble gingerly  at  his  paw,  and  then  lick  it  ten- 
derly as  if  with  a  wish  to  nurse  it  back  to 
usefulness. 

This  went  on  for  three  days.  On  the 
afternoon  of  the  third,  a  little  group  of  men, 
passing  along  the  highroad,  paused  by  the 
fence  to  look  over  John  Frenchy's  do- 
main. 

"  He  must  be  starvin'  hungry  down  there, 
by  this  time,"  remarked  one. 

"  Yes,  it  'ud  be  a  mercy  to  put  a  load  o' 
shot  into  him  now,  —  a  mercy  to  him,  an'  to 
us,  too,"  replied  another. 

"  What  is  it?  "  asked  a  hoarse,  strong 
voice  from  the  rear. 

The  men  turned  with  a  jerk.  The  speaker 
was  Witch  Beevish,  on  one  of  her  very  in- 
frequent passages  through  Partlettsville. 
"  What  are  you  looking  at?  "  she  asked 
again,  as  the  men  turned  from  her  without 
troubling  themselves  to  reply. 

"  Just  old  Simon's  dog  down  there,  —  he's 
hurt,"  said  one  of  the  men  negligently. 


96  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  Hurt!  Why  doesn't  some  one  help 
him?  " 

"  It  happens  his  master's  away  from 
home  just  at  present !  ' '  spoke  up  one  of  the 
men  with  a  grin. 

"  Then  why  not  one  of  you?  "  said  the 
old  woman  promptly. 

"  One  of  us!  "  They  looked  at  her  be- 
tween amusement  and  incredulity.  "  Say, 
that's  a  good  one!  " 

She  had  on  her  inevitable  headdress  of  red 
cambric,  and  the  carriage  robe  was  now  do- 
ing duty  about  her  shoulders  for  a  shawl; 
it  was  made  up  of  twenty  colors  pieced  to- 
gether, and  she  carried  the  strangest  little 
hand-bag  of  beads  and  worsted.  She  now 
began  fishing  in  this,  drew  out  a  pair  of  spec- 
tacles, put  them  on,  and  then  walking  to  the 
corner,  turned  up  the  narrow  sidewalk  that 
led  to  John  Frenchy's  house. 

"  Come  back!  Are  you  crazy?  "  shouted 
one  of  the  men,  his  face  actually  turning 
pale.  ' '  Say  —  she  ought  to  be  fetched 
back!  " 


John  97 

But  she  was  already  nearing  the  little 
gate,  and  no  one  offered  to  execute  this  com- 
mission. 

Then  something  like  a  miracle  happened. 
She  walked  in  at  the  gate  of  John  Frenchy's 
yard  and  up  to  the  hogshead  in  which  the 
great  beast  lay.  They  could  see  her  stop, 
but  her  back  was  toward  them  and  the  patch- 
work shawl  of  many  colors  obstructed  the 
view  so  they  could  not  see  her  hawklike  old 
face  turn  pale  for  an  instant  as  she  looked 
into  the  wild  dog's  eyes,  nor  how  firmly  she 
set  her  lips  and  forced  herself  to  look  with 
a  steady  expression  straight  into  his  face. 
Neither  could  they  hear  her  talk,  talk  to  him 
all  the  while;  nor  could  they  hear  the  low 
moaning  of  John  Frenchy  from  this  dis- 
tance,—  she  had  heard  it  the  moment  she 
neared  his  house;  he  had  probably  kept  it 
up  for  many  hours,  for  the  pain  in  his  paw 
had  become  a  burning  anguish. 

It  seemed  a  long  time,  to  those  watching, 
before  the  old  woman  stood  up,  turned,  and 
again  came  through  the  little  gate.  Oth- 


98  John  o'  Partletts' 

ers  had  joined  the  group  by  now,  and  all 
watched. 

"  'Tain't  natural!  "  said  some  one;  "  it 
seems  'most  like  witch-craft!  " 

The  old  woman  came  forward,  looked  at 
them  contemptuously,  and  taking  off  her 
spectacles,  restored  them  to  the  worsted  bag. 

Now  that  she  stood  face  to  face  with  them, 
quite  sound,  their  alarm  vanished,  and  they 
began  to  nudge  each  other  and  snicker. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Missis?  "  asked  one, 
pretending  much  concern ;  ' '  did  you  find  out 
his  ailments?  " 

She  opened  her  hand  and  showed  a  long, 
crooked  thorn. 

"  Good  God!  "  exclaimed  the  man.  "  Did 
he  let  you  take  that  out  ?  " 

"  .Well!  an'  more's  the  pity!  "  said  a 
voice;  "  now  he'll  be  on  his  all  fours 
again !  ' ' 

11  Where's  old  Simon?  "  asked  the  old 
woman  sharply.  "  Why  doesn't  he  look 
after  his  own  dog?  " 

"OP  Simon!     He's  been  gone  long  an' 


"  SHE    OPENED    HER   HAND    AND    SHOWED   A    LONG,    CROOKED 
THORN." 


John  99 

merry  ago,  never  to  come  back!  An'  left 
his  fine  cur  behind  him!  "  It  was  Gus 
Schaftsmire's  voice.  He  and  Michaelson  had 
come  up  in  time  to  see  the  thorn  displayed, 
and  each  wore  a  rather  sheepish  appearance. 

The  old  woman  stood  still  for  a  minute, 
looking  from  face  to  face. 

' '  Ah !  ' '  she  said  slowly,  nodding  her  head 
once  or  twice.  Then  she  walked  up  to  the 
fence  rail ;  taking  hold  of  it,  she  leaned  over 
as  if  to  make  herself  better  heard,  and  yelled 
at  the  top  of  her  voice  —  a  stentorian  voice 
—  across  the  meadow. 

"  John  Frenchy,  you're  deserted!  It's 
the  way  of  the  world!  Your  usefulness  is 
over  to  the  person  who  owned  you,  and  he's 
kicked  you  off,  —  it's  the  way  of  the  world  I  " 
Her  eyes  began  to  flash,  and  her  voice  to 
vibrate  with  agitation,  but  it  rang  out  as 
strong  as  ever.  "  I  know  what  loneliness  is, 
too !  ' '  she  screamed.  ' '  And  ingratitude, 
and  falseness !  —  If  you  ever  want  a  friend, 
come  to  one  who  is  in  like  condition  with 
yourself !  You  know  where  I  live,  —  on  the 


100  John  o'  Partletts' 

top  of  Partletts'.  You've  passed  my  house  — 
I've  seen  you  go  by !  "  she  shouted,  precisely 
as  if  she  were  speaking  to  a  person.  The 
first  part  of  her  speech  was  dramatic  and 
amusing  enough,  but  these  explicit  directions 
to  John  Frenchy  set  the  company  off  en- 
tirely. They  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter. 

"  An'  what's  that  you're  talkin'  to  himt 
—  dog  talk?  "  was  asked  between  guffaws. 
"  An*  was  that  what  you  talked  to  him  down 
there,  too?  " 

Witch  Beevish  turned  slowly,  and  looked 
the  man  who  spoke  straight  in  the  face : 

"Yes,  dog  talk!  " 

This  tickled  him  more  than  ever. 

' '  An '  could  you  teach  it  to  me  1  "  he  asked 
ingratiatingly. 

She  looked  at  him  as  if  considering  his 
request. 

"  No,'*  she  said  slowly,  "  you  couldn't 
learn  it !  Only  certain  people  know  it,  and  no 
one  teaches  it  to  them, — they  know  it  them- 
selves. I  can  talk  dog  talk,"  she  went  on 
with  perfect  gravity,  looking  straight  into 


John  101 

the  man's  face  with  eyes  that  shone  like 
points,  "  and  bird  talk,  and  the  talk  of  all 
the  creatures  up  there!  "  indicating  Part- 
letts'  with  a  majestic  sweep  of  heo*  arm. 
With  that  she  straightened  her  headdress, 
stalked  with  dignity  through  the  now  large 
ranks  of  her  audience,  climbed  into  her 
strange  vehicle,  and  drove  away  with  her 
head  up,  not  again  looking  at  a  soul. 

"  Crazy  as  a  loon!  "  murmured  the  man, 
blinking  and  rubbing  his  hand  over  his  eyes. 
"  And  the  stare  she  can  give  you!  " 

"  Bird  talk!  Dog  talk!  "  cackled  Kitty 
Merry  weather ;  *  *  now  is  anybody  ever  'card 
the  equal  o'  that!  "  and  she  went  on  up  the 
street  cackling,  and  turned  in  at  Louisa 
Myers,  to  describe  the  scene  to  her,  that  stout 
person  being  in  such  a  state  of  negligee  that 
she  had  been  obliged  to  miss  the  entertain- 
ment. 

At  the  same  moment  Henry  Carruthers, 
chancing  to  be  standing  at  one  of  the  rectory 
windows  and  seeing  the  strange-looking  old 
woman  drive  past,  her  hawk  face  flushed  and 


102  John  o'  Partletts' 

set,  and  lier  lips  murmuring  in  a  sort  of 
aftermath  of  excitement,  shook  his  head. 

"  Not  a  fit  person  for  that  child  to  be  left 
with;  I  must  get  him  away  from  her,"  he 
thought.  But  though  he  compressed  his  lips 
determinedly  his  eyes  looked  thoughtful. 

Witch  Beevish  was  a  difficult  adversary  to 
try  conclusions  with ! 


CHAPTER   VIII 

JOHN    GOES   TO   PAKTLETTS* 

As  was  predicted,  John  Frenchy  was  soon 
on  his  all  fours  again,  and  resumed  his  noc- 
turnal foraging. 

One  morning  he  lay  in  his  so-called  kennel 
after  a  very  fruitless  night  of  hunting.  All 
the  rabbits  seemed  to  have  departed  to  the 
opposite  side  of  the  hill  of  Partletts',  and 
this  was  not  pleasant  to  contemplate  with 
Winter  already  on  the  scene;  for  this  morn- 
ing the  sky  was  banked  with  heavy  clouds 
that  held  a  sure  promise  of  snow,  and  a  cut- 
ting wind  swirled  around  the  deserted  cot- 
tage and  tiny  bare  yard. 

John  Frenchy  felt  exceedingly  ill-hu- 
mored, and  he  had  reason  to  be;  not  only 
was  he  hungry,  he  was  cold.  In  spite  of  his 
hard,  coarse  coat,  he  shivered ;  he  kept  wrin- 
kling up  his  fierce  brows  and  scratching  at 
103 


104  John  o'  Partletts' 

the  old  cotton  comforter  which  was  long 
since  worn  into  thin  tatters,  but  which  was 
the  only  thing  resembling  home  comfort 
which  John  Frenchy  knew.  Worse  than  this, 
his  hogshead  had  begun  to  leak,  so  that  his 
floor  was  constantly  damp.  But  it  was  the 
only  abiding-place  he  had,  and,  as  every 
creature  must  have  some  combination  of 
things  that  form  home,  John  Frenchy  stuck 
to  his,  —  consisting  of  one  leaky  hogshead, 
one  old  comforter,  and  one  deluded  and  fixed 
idea  that  his  place  was  here  to  watch  his 
master's  house. 

It  was  true  that  thus  far  he  had  never 
been  called  upon  to  forcibly  protect  the  place 
at  all;  the  fact  that  John  Frenchy  and  his 
fixed  idea  were  on  the  premises  was  quite 
sufficient  for  all  the  neighbors. 

But  now,  this  morning,  something  quite 
out  of  the  ordinary  was  happening ! 

A  large,  covered  cart  was  rumbling  along 
the  highroad.  Suddenly  the  rumbling  ceased. 
John  Frenchy  looked  out  to  see  where  the 
cart  was  going.  It  had  turned  at  the  corner 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  105 

and  was  rolling  quietly  along  the  earth  road 
toward  his  gate!  He  could  scarcely  believe 
his  eyes,  but  he  sat  quietly  on  the  shadow  of 
the  hogshead  and  watched.  Then  stranger 
things  happened.  The  cart  came  opposite, 
turned,  and  backed  up  half-way  across  the 
near  sidewalk.  The  driver  deliberately  got 
down,  blanketed  his  horses,  unfastened  the 
tail-board,  and  —  blissfully  ignorant  of  John 
Frenchy  and  his  fixed  idea  —  came  uncon- 
cernedly forward  to  open  the  gate. 

At  last,  then,  it  had  come  to  John  Frenchy 
to  protect  his  master's  property!  With  a 
roar,  and  a  bound  of  his  great  body  that 
shook  the  hogshead  from  stem  to  stern,  he 
sprang  on  guard. 

The  driver,  with  an  oath,  slammed  the  gate 
and  retreated. 

"  What  the  devil!  "  he  roared.  "  Git  out 
o'  that,  will  you?  " 

He  stood  on  the  sidewalk  and  regarded 
John  Frenchy,  the  shock  of  the  surprise 
tingling  in  every  nerve  and  irritating  him 
to  the  last  fibre  of  his  being. 


106  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  I'll  fix  you,  all  right!  "  he  shouted  at 
length,  and,  going  over  to  his  wagon,  took 
out  his  long  whip  and  made  a  valiant  and 
threatening  motion  toward  the  dog. 

11  Now,  will  you  git  away?  "  he  inquired. 

John  Frenchy  did  not  budge.  A  slight 
rasping  sound  could  be  heard  in  his  throat, 
and  his  hideous  brows  wrinkled  together ;  at 
the  same  time  his  lips  parted  and  were 
drawn  back,  ever  so  little,  just  to  show  what 
was  beneath  them. 

The  driver  looked  meditative. 

"  .What  are  you  doin'  here,  anyhow!  "  he 
asked  after  a  while. 

John  Frenchy  made  no  answer;  he  only 
rolled  his  eyes  sidewise,  showing  the  blood- 
shot white,  and  slightly  shifted  his  paws. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  man,  deciding  to 
try  what  conciliation  would  accomplish. 
' '  He 's  a  good  doggie !  Good  doggie !  Let 
me  by!  "  And  reaching  out,  at  arm's  length, 
he  tentatively  laid  two  fingers  on  the  gate. 

John  Frenchy  eyed  those  two  fingers. 
The  rasp  became  a  growl ;  there  was  a  stif- 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  107 

fening  of  his  whole  body  and  a  rising  of  the 
coarse  hairs  at  the  back  of  his  head.  The 
man  sprang  back  —  there  was  no  misunder- 
standing the  expression  of  those  little  fixed 
eyes! 

"  Curse  you!  You  beast!  "  muttered  the 
driver  from  the  edge  of  the  sidewalk. 
"  What  are  you  doin'  here  anyhow?  Ain't 
you  know  I  got  to  move  in  that  cart  load  o' 
furniture?  An7  a  storm  comin'  up!  An* 

a cold  business  hanging  'round  in  this 

wind!  " 

Again  John  Frenchy  shifted  his  paws  and 
rolled  his  eyes.  For  his  part,  he  no  longer 
felt  cold.  The  wind  blew  straight  against 
his  lean  body  and  ruffled  his  coarse  hair  until 
it  seemed  to  stand  on  end.  But  he  was  warm, 
—  warmed  by  a  feeling  of  animosity  and 
rage  against  this  intruder  who  made  so  free 
as  to  touch  even  the  gate  of  his  master's 
property;  and  he  sat  square  in  the  little 
path,  grim,  immovable,  as  hotly  zealous  for 
his  cause  as  if  it  had  been  a  real  one,  and  not 
merely  a  deluded,  fixed  idea. 


108  John  o'  Partletts' 

The  driver  looked  about  him  for  a  while, 
and  then,  seeing  a  public  house  sign  on  the 
high  street,  he  sauntered  over  there,  looking 
as  unconcerned  as  he  might,  and  was  soon 
telling  his  predicament  to  those  already 
gathered  about  the  bar.  He  gleaned  but  lit- 
tle assurance  from  their  attitude.  They 
were  vastly  amused,  however,  and  laughed 
loud  and  long.  Doubtless  it  was  some  such 
comedy  as  this  which  old  Simon  foresaw 
when  he  winked  and  told  John  Frenchy  to 
watch  the  place.  At  any  rate,  his  one-time 
landlord,  the  owner  of  the  little  cottage,  was 
moving  into  it,  and  thus  were  his  goods  and 
chattels  held  up  at  his  own  gateway. 

"  An'  you've  the  devil  to  face!"  the 
driver  was  informed  emphatically.  "  The 
devil  hisself  in  that  beast!  " 

"  I  see,"  remarked  that  person  resignedly, 
over  his  second  mug  of  beer.  "  It  ain't  no 
use." 

He  was  a  big,  lazy-looking  fellow,  and  the 
beer  seemed  to  console  him  for  his  inability 
to  get  to  work.  He  contented  himself  by 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  109 

sending  word  by  a  little  urchin  to  the  owner 
of  the  state  of  affairs,  and  then  perforce 
made  himself  comfortable  in  the  warm  bar- 
room. During  the  morning  he  would  walk 
to  the  end  of  the  high  street  and  look  around 
the  corner  to  "  see  how  things  was  goin'." 
And  each  time,  being  refreshed  by  the  sight 
of  John  Frenchy  sitting  bolt  upright  in  the 
little  path,  not  having  budged  an  inch,  re- 
turned to  his  quarters  ruefully  shaking  his 
head. 

But  when  it  came  time  to  bait  his  horses 
he  was  in  a  quandary  indeed,  for  by  this 
time  he  had  heard  so  many  tales  of  the  fierce- 
ness of  the  big  brute  that  he  really  felt  he 
had  been  too  venturesome  this  morning  in 
walking  so  near  the  lion's  mouth.  At  length, 
however,  he  essayed  his  task,  a  cudgel  in  one 
hand,  a  bucket  of  feed  in  the  other.  No  one 
in  Partlettsville  offered  to  accompany  him, 
and  very  wisely.  For  the  hatred  of  John 
Frenchy  for  the  inhabitants  of  Partlettsville 
far  exceeded  his  hatred  of  a  stranger. 

He  reached  his  wagon,  maintaining  ap- 


110  John  o'  Partletts' 

pearances,  but  feeling  very  shaky  inwardly, 
and  John  Frenchy  watched  him  with  an 
eagerness  and  a  look  of  readiness  calculated 
to  make  one  uncomfortable.  The  big  beast 
made  no  motion,  however;  he  allowed  the 
man  to  secure  his  feed  bags,  hang  them  over 
his  horses'  ears,  and  walk  away  unmolested, 
for  he  understood  perfectly  what  he  was 
doing.  He  had  seen  horses  fed  before,  and 
he  had  no  desire  to  interfere;  for  though 
John  Frenchy  had  become  a  prey  to  a  fixed 
idea,  he  was  no  fool  I 

Thus  the  day  wore  on. 

In  the  afternoon  the  snow  came,  very  fine, 
whirling  lightly  over  the  frozen  roads  before 
the  keen  wind.  And  with  the  snow  came  the 
owner  of  the  cottage,  very  angry,  and  vio- 
lently proclaiming  the  fact.  His  advent  was 
announced  by  a  little  boy  posted  to  keep 
watch,  who  threw  open  the  door  of  the  bar- 
room, hurling  in,  along  with  a  blast  of  cold 
air,  the  words : 

"  He's  a-comin'!  " 

Sure  enough,  at  the  end  of  the  high  street 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  111 

a  horseman  had  dismounted  and  was  leading 
forward  a  jaded  horse. 

"  What's  the  matter  here!  "  he  was  ask- 
ing excitedly  on  all  sides.  "  What's  the 
matter,  I  say?  ' 

He  was  a  small  man  with  red  moustache 
and  whiskers,  and  little  green  eyes.  The 
minute  he  caught  sight  of  the  driver  he  began 
to  bawl: 

"  Why,  in  heaven's  name,  ain't  you  taken 
my  things  inside  the  house  yonder?  Don't 
you  tell  me  none  of  your  lies,  —  I  don't  want 
to  hear  'em!  Ain't  you  got  no  spunk?  Ain't 
you  a  man?  No,"  he  yelled,  dramatically 
answering  his  own  question,  "  you  ain't  got 
the  spunk  of  a  feminine  flea!  "  There  were 
some  gurgles  of  laughter,  and  the  driver 
looked  sheepish. 

"  Now,  you  follow  me!  "  shouted  the  en- 
ergetic little  red-headed  man.  "  I'll  see 
what's  the  meanin'  of  this  talk  about  keepin' 
a  man  out  of  his  own  property !  And  —  ' ' 
again  to  the  driver,  "  you'll  not  get  a  cent 
for  bringin'  the  goods  over,  do  you  see?  It's 


112  John  o'  Partletts' 

your  business  to  deliver  them  inside  the 
house!  So  come  along!  I  ain't  payin'  you 
for  cowardice!  " 

The  shouting  and  gesticulating  had 
brought  men,  women,  and  children  into  the 
high  street.  Partlettsville  was  ever  ready 
for  a  free  show. 

And  now  was  to  be  seen  the  little  red- 
headed man  walking  briskly  toward  the  cor- 
ner, rolling  his  eyes  back  at  the  slouching 
driver,  who  lounged  in  his  wake,  but,  sus- 
tained by  numberless  mugs  of  beer,  he  found 
sufficient  courage  to  announce: 

"That's  all  right!  That's  all  right! 
Whatever  any  man  darst,  I  darst!  " 

They  came  to  the  corner,  looked  around  it, 
and  paused. 

There  in  the  little  path,  in  a  swirl  of  fine 
snow,  sat  John  Frenchy,  just  as  he  had  sat 
all  day,  on  guard,  lean,  alone.  He  saw  the 
red-headed  man,  he  saw  the  driver,  —  and 
then  he  stood  up,  lowered  his  head,  and 
bristled,  for  he  saw  the  Partlettsville  folk. 
These  he  knew  by  instinct  and  by  instruction 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  113 

to  be  his  enemies.  There  was  not  one  among 
them  whom  he  did  not  hate;  not  one  who 
did  not  hate  him ;  not  one  who  had  not  jeered 
at  him  and  threatened  him;  who  had  not 
thrown  from  windows  every  description  of 
missile  a't  him !  Now  he  saw  them  gathered, 
with  what  intention  he  knew  not ;  but  as  they 
gazed  at  him  he  returned  their  gaze  full 
measure,  and  sent  out  a  deep,  hollow  chal- 
lenge  as  if  inviting  them  to  personal  combat 
and  a  settlement  of  long  account. 

11  Oh,  that's  you,  is  it!  "  yelled  the  little 
man.  "  That's  the  critter  I've  heard  tell  of, 
is  it?  That's  what  old  Simon  leaves  me  in 
place  of  two  months'  good  rent,  eh!  Well, 
I'll  have  the  rent  out  of  the  old  miser  yet! 
I'll  let  him  know  I'm  as  sharp  as  he  is,  if 
I  have  to  go  to  law  for  it!  And,  meantime, 
you'll  keep  me  out  o'  my  property,  eh! 
Fine  doin's!  A  little  joke,  eh?  Let's  see 
about  it!  Come  on!  "  he  commanded  his 
big  retainer;  and,  in  spite  of  the  fury  in 
his  voice  and  gesture,  he  began  with  cool- 
ness, his  hands  in  his  pockets,  to  walk  along 


114  John  o'  Partletts' 

the  narrow  sidewalk  leading  to  the  cot- 
tage. 

The  big  driver  wagged  his  head  and 
lurched  after  him,  repeating  defiantly: 

' '  What  any  man  darst,  I  darst  1  ' ' 

There  was  a  general  shout  from  those 
gathered  at  the  corner: 

'"  Come  back!" 

"  Don't  you  risk  it!  " 

The  red-headed  man  turned  around. 

"  And  do  you  think, "  he  asked,  in  a  tone 
of  contempt,  "  that  I'm  afraid  of  a  dog?  '' 

Gus  Schaftsmire  and  some  others  red- 
dened a  little;  and  after  this  those  on  the 
corner  were  silent. 

The  little  man  walked  on  step  by  step,  his 
hands  in  his  pockets,  apostrophizing  John 
Frenchy  with  every  breath : 

11  You  uncivil  cur,  you!  You'll  keep  folks 
waitin'  'round  all  day,  will  you?  Well,  you'll 
go  to  the  devil,  —  or  else  I  will!  One  of  us 
two!  " 

John  Frenchy  saw  an  open  and  determined 
enemy,  and  he  stood  waiting,  his  big  head 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  115 

raised,  his  lips  lifted,  a  low  gurgle  in  his 
throat,  and  he  slightly  shook  all  over  with 
excitement. 

The  man  had  approached  within  a  few 
paces  of  him  now,  and  raised  his  voice; 
he  began  to  shout  more  violently.  John 
Frenchy  took  a  step  forward,  he  lifted  one 
paw,  and  stood  with  it  raised;  he  stood  taut 
now,  his  lips  baring  his  teeth,  the  gurgle 
changed  into  a  snarl. 

He  was  waiting  for  the  man  to  touch  the 
gate. 

Some  one  at  the  corner  gave  an  irrepress- 
ible cry  of  warning.  Still  the  man  came  on. 
He  kept  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  but  he 
thrust  his  head  forward  menacingly. 

"  Do  you  think  I'm  afraid  of  you?  "  he 
asked,  face  to  face  with  John  Frenchy  now, 
and  he  took  another  step.  His  coat  brushed 
the  gate.  It  was  the  signal. 

John  Frenchy  partly  closed  his  eyes  for 
the  half-second  it  took  him  to  throw  back 
his  head  and  give  out  one  terrific  roar.  Then 
he  rose  on  his  hind  legs  and  leaped  high. 


116  John  o'  Partletts' 

But  not  at  the  gate,  not  forward;  he  sank 
in  his  tracks. 

Something  had  happened,  —  something 
like  magic,  like  lightning  from  heaven! 

'*  I'm  not  afraid  of  you!  "  the  man  had 
roared.  "  That  for  yours!  "  He  had 
slipped  his  right  hand  from  his  pocket ;  there 
was  a  flash,  a  report,  and  the  great  leaping 
body  fell. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  then 
those  on  the  corner  gave  a  shout,  and  the 
little  man  reached  over  with  a  flourish  and 
deliberately  threw  the  gate  wide  open. 

He  thought  he  had  killed  John  Frenchy; 
but  he  had  not. 

John  Frenchy  lay  still  on  his  side ;  a  burn- 
ing, fiery  pain  gripped  his  shoulder  and 
tingled  through  his  whole  body,  and  he  could 
smell  his  own  blood  as  it  came  welling  up 
and  trickled  over  his  coarse  hair  on  to  the 
path.  A  dizziness  and  a  blindness  had  come 
over  him.  But  through  it  all,  under  it  all, 
he  knew  that  he  was  beaten.  He  knew  that 
he  would  never  protect  that  gate  for  his  mas- 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  117 

ter,  or  his  master's  property  again.  The 
man  had  won !  And,  deep  down  in  his  being, 
the  fierce  pride  which  had  held  itself  so 
high,  was  lowered;  it  lay  maimed  and 
wounded,  just  as  John  Frenchy's  great  body 
lay  maimed  and  wounded  on  the  little  path. 

And  just  at  that  moment  there  came  an- 
other shout  from  the  corner ;  and  here  came 
the  Partlettsville  people  crowding  along  the 
sidewalk,  stepping  where  and  how  they  chose, 
as  they  had  never  done  before.  And  at  the 
same  moment  the  man  entered  the  gate,  came 
up  the  path  —  and  stopped. 

John  Frenchy  had  heard  the  shout,  he  had 
heard  the  approaching  feet;  he  seemed  al- 
ready to  feel  his  enemies  around  him  look- 
ing at  him  in  his  humiliation  and  defeat. 
He  rose  with  a  growl  and  a  fierce  snarl, 
gnashing  his  teeth  with  pain  and  fury,  blood 
and  foam  gathering  on  his  lips.  He  would 
take  his  anguish  away  from  the  sight  of 
man!  If  he  must  die,  he  would  die  alone  I 

Great  hulk  though  he  was,  he  had  always 
been  quick  on  his  feet,  and  he  had  risen  with 


118  John  o'  Partletts' 

such  a  desperate  swiftness  that  the  man  had 
no  time  to  cover  him  with  his  pistol  before 
the  great  beast,  lunging  past  him,  had  stag- 
gered through  the  gate. 

The  Partlettsville  people  sprang  back. 

But  Grus  Schaftsmire,  seeing  that  retreat- 
ing back  and  the  staggering  legs,  felt  his 
animosity  arise  within  him.  He  had  a  stick 
in  his  hand,  and  he  reached  out  with  it  and 
dealt  the  dog  a  blow  on  his  hind  quarters. 
He  had  scarcely  done  it,  however,  before  his 
face  turned  pale.  Fear  seized  him.  Once 
before  he  had  been  too  rash!  And  he 
sprang  across  the  pavement  and  caught  the 
fence  rail,  ready  for  a  leap. 

But  John  Frenchy  was  far  beyond  retalia- 
tion. His  great  head  was  sagging;  it  lolled 
slightly  from  side  to  side  with  the  desperate 
effort  he  made  to  draw  his  heavy  paws  after 
him.  Slowly,  slowly  he  went,  leaving  a  trail 
of  blood  in  the  snow  which  had  now  covered 
the  ground  with  its  fine  white  mantle. 

Those  behind  sprang  into  the  little  yard, 
roamed  about  curiously,  displaced  the  great 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  119 

hogshead  and  kicked  it  rolling  ignominiously 
into  the  road,  talked  over  the  adventure  and 
stood  about,  watching  the  driver  unpack  the 
furniture. 

Then  the  energetic  little  red-headed  man 
shouted : 

"  Say  —  come  and  lend  a  hand!  Help  us 
in  with  this  stuff,  can't  you?  It's  comin'  on 
to  snow,  an'  gettin*  dark  already!  " 

But  suddenly  the  Partlettsville  people  all 
remembered  that  they  had  to  go  home.  To 
"  lend  a  hand  "  was  not  much  in  their  line. 

Late  that  night  a  lantern  could  be  seen 
glimmering  along  the  side  of  the  hill  toward 
Partlettsville.  It  was  carried  by  Gus  Schafts- 
mire,  he,  Michaelson  and  others  having  gone 
out,  "  to  track  the  beast  and  finish  him,  it 
bein'  unsafe  to  leave  a  creature  like  that, 
half -mad  and  wounded,  hangin'  round." 

Through  the  white  snow  they  could  track 
him  readily  enough,  not  only  by  the  great 
paw  marks,  but  by  the  blood  stains  at  regular 
intervals  marking  the  way. 


120  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  An'  here  he  must  have  thought  he  was 
about  done  for !  ' '  exclaimed  Gus,  pointing  to 
a  little  well  of  blood  in  the  snow.  Evidently 
the  dog  had  paused  here,  and  perhaps  lain 
down. 

They  tracked  him  straight  to  the  little 
stream;  and  there  the  trail  ceased. 

They  crossed  on  the  stepping-stones  and 
examined  the  opposite  side,  but,  though  they 
thought  they  saw  a  few  paw  marks,  the  blood 
stains  ceased.  Whether  the  icy  water  had 
staunched  the  flow  of  blood,  or  whether  he 
was  hanging  about  somewhere  under  the 
shadow  of  the  bank,  they  could  not  guess. 
At  any  rate,  it  was  bitter  cold;  the  wind, 
which  had  been  rising  all  day,  was  now 
raging,  and  the  snow,  which  had  held  up 
for  a  few  hours,  was  again  falling.  It  was 
going  to  be  a  night  of  it;  they  had  made  a 
brave  search,  and  thought  they  had  best  go 
home. 

"  Most  like,"  remarked  Michaelson,  as  he 
set  his  face  doggedly  to  meet  the  rising  gale, 
"  most  like  this  cold '11  finish  him  anyhow." 


John  Goes  to  Partletts'  121 

At  just  about  the  same  hour  a  dark,  lonely 
form  could  be  seen  working  its  way  slowly, 
painfully,  toward  the  brow  of  the  hill.  Up 
through  the  thick,  bare  bushes,  pausing, 
panting,  groaning. 

Now  the  brow  of  the  hill  was  gained,  now 
the  fir  trees,  now  the  big  pine  and  the  little 
one.  Then  a  turn,  and  just  beyond  a  light 
gleamed.  Toward  this  the  lonely  form 
struggled,  nearer  and  nearer.  At  last  it 
reached  it,  stood  before  the  window  from 
which  it  streamed,  and  then,  suddenly,  with 
a  frantic  effort,  reared  itself,  and  stood  so 
for  an  instant,  its  head  revealed  in  the  square 
of  light ;  a  great  head,  earless,  bloody,  from 
which  hung  ice  and  frozen  mud,  and  at  the 
same  moment  an  animal  cry  went  up ;  a  cry 
of  torture,  humiliation,  bitterness  and  ap- 
peal. 


CHAPTER   IX 

A  PLAN   IS   FRUSTRATED 

EVERY  one  in  Partlettsville  wondered  what 
had  become  of  John  Frenchy.  The  storm 
proved  to  be  a  severe  one.  It  lasted  two 
days,  and  when  it  was  over  everything  was 
covered  deep  with  snow.  Some  thought  he 
must  be  buried  under  a  drift,  but  Gus 
Schaftsmire  and  his  companions  believed 
that  he  had  died  in  the  little  stream,  and  that 
his  great  body  was  lying  in  some  deep  hollow 
under  its  now  frozen  surface. 

However  it  might  be,  it  was  not  more  than 
a  nine  days'  wonder,  scarcely  that,  and  they 
soon  turned  themselves  to  other  affairs. 

Mr.  Carruthers,  at  this  time,  set  his 
thoughts  upon  the  task  of  getting  Jim  from 
Witch  Beevish.  He  had  a  real,  almost  in- 
stinctive dislike  for  the  old  woman,  which 

122 


A  Plan  Is  Frustrated  123 

he  conscientiously  tried  to  smother,  but  his 
disapproval  of  her  he  felt  to  be  justifiable. 

When  she  came  to  Partlettsville  some 
years  before,  got  her  bit  of  a  house,  and 
made  her  garden,  he,  in  the  regular  order 
of  things,  had  called  on  her,  though  she 
had  not  entered  his  church.  From  the  first, 
on  account  of  her  strange  ways,  she  was 
ridiculed  by  the  Partlettsville  people,  who 
openly  proclaimed  her  to  be  crazy. 

Her  reception  of  the  minister  was  neither 
cordial,  nor  markedly  respectful. 

"  Madam,"  he  said,  at  the  close  of  a  not 
very  satisfying  interview,  "  it  is  a  regret  to 
me  that  you  do  not  worship." 

"  And  why,"  she  asked,  with  a  quick  flash 
in  her  eyes,  "  do  you  assume  that  I  do  not 
worship?  " 

He  replied  gravely  and  emphatically:  "  I 
must  assume  as  much ;  you  have  never  come 
to  the  church!  " 

"  And  do  you,"  she  cried  out  suddenly, 
"  imagine  that  it  is  necessary  to  sit  between 
four  walls  in  order  to  worship !  Look !  "  she 


124  John  o'  Partletts' 

cried,  pointing  him  to  the  window;  "  what 
is  that  above  you?  Heaven!  And  what  is 
that  beneath?  Earth!  Why  not  stand  upon 
this,  and  look  up  at  that?  Look  at  what  is 
about  you,  the  trees,  the  flowers,  the  birds ;  — 
they  are  speaking  to  you!  But  you,"  she 
exclaimed  with  increasing  excitement,  * '  must 
feel  that  before  you  can  worship  you  must 
shut  yourself  into  a  church  with  painted 
windows,  and  stand  in  a  box  you  call  a 
pulpit!  " 

"  Madam!  "  exclaimed  the  minister. 

"  Look  about  you,  man!  "  she  cried. 
'  *  Broaden  your  vision !  .What  you  see  and 
feel  may  be  true  enough,  but  see  more,  feel 
more!  And  help  others  to  see  and  feel!  " 

Henry  Carruthers  stood  still,  his  slender 
shoulders  thrown  back,  and  as  he  looked 
down  at  her  there  was  a  flash  in  his  dark 
eyes  that  matched  the  light  in  hers. 

"  You  tell  me  to  broaden  my  vision,"  he 
said,  his  firm  lips  tightly  drawn.  "  Let  me 
ask  you  in  turn,  is  your  vision  so  narrow 
that  it  sees  not  the  church  in  its  dignity  and 


A  Plan  Is  Frustrated  125 

great  power?  In  the  righteousness  and  truth 
in  which  it  has  stood  through  the  years! 
The  church  of  God!  "  he  went  on,  his  voice 
rising,  "  the  haven  of  those  who  love  her; 
but  the  scourge  and  punishment  of  those  who 
dare  to  revile  her!  " 

The  old  woman  took  a  step  nearer  and 
touched  his  sleeve. 

"  Down  there  in  that  church,"  she  said, 
pointing  toward  Partlettsville,  "  you  cherish 
the  belief  that  there  is  no  one  outside  of  it 
who  is  good  enough  to  be  treated  as  a  human 
being,  no  one  who  has  a  right  to  live  on  God's 
earth  in  his  own  way.  I  read  that  belief  in 
your  eyes,  I  read  it  in  the  faces  of  those 
people  down  there!  Because  I  hear  the 
Spirit  of  Truth  in  a  thousand  voices,  under 
the  open  heaven,  and  do  not  enter  your  four 
walls  to  seek  it,  you  would  make  of  me  an 
outcast!  Until  you  admit  my  worship  to  be 
a  true  worship,  I  will  never  admit  yours !  ' ' 

They  parted  in  anger.  It  could  scarcely 
be  otherwise.  Henry  Carruthers  was  angry, 
but  he  was  wounded,  too.  He  was  accus- 


126  John  o'  Partletts' 

tomed  to  be  treated  with  the  greatest  respect 
as  the  representative  of  the  church,  execu- 
ting its  mission,  bearing  its  burden,  —  which 
he  did  indeed,  ever  conscientiously,  to  the 
very  limit  of  his  endurance.  Now,  the 
Witch's  behavior  seemed  to  insult  him,  not 
so  much  as  a  man,  but  as  a  minister,  and  that 
thought  was  like  a  poison.  After  this  he 
could  scarcely  think  of  her  without  a  quick- 
ening of  the  pulse,  and  when  tales  of  her 
were  repeated  to  him,  his  face  always  be- 
came rigid.  Restraining  himself,  he  said 
little;  but  the  expression  of  his  face  was 
easily  read  by  those  about  him,  and : 

"  Mr.  Carruthers,  hisself,  ain't  got  no  use 
for  her!  "  was  a  very  damning  comment 
upon  the  Witch. 

Now,  it  happened  that  Kitty  Merry- 
weather  no  longer  did  a  day's  work  for 
Witch  Beevish. 

Down  in  Partlettsville  Kitty  said  that  the 
way  was  too  long  in  the  middle  of  Winter. 
But  the  truth  was,  very  high  words  had 


A  Plan  Is  Frustrated  127 

passed  between  them  over  Kitty's  Willie,  to 
whom  the  Witch  had  applied  terms  of  the 
most  uncomplimentary  nature.  Kitty  there- 
upon declared  that  as  long  as  the  sun  shone 
in  heaven,  she  would  never  do  another  day's 
work  for  her.  The  Witch  made  answer  that 
she  didn't  wish  her  to!  The  door  had 
slammed,  and  Kitty  gone  down  the  hill  for 
the  last  time.  And  all  the  while  little  Jim 
sat  screwed  up  on  the  bench  beside  the 
kitchen  stove,  with  eyes  as  big  as  saucers, 
most  uncomfortably  conscious  of  the  fact 
that  he  was  the  bone  of  contention. 

As  for  Kitty,  her  very  tenderest  spot  was 
touched.  Her  Willie  was  the  light  of  her 
eyes.  Maggie,  —  well,  she  had  her  faults, 
she  wouldn't  deny!  But  Willie!  She  saw 
him  in  the  light  of  such  an  extreme  par- 
tiality that  her  laudations  of  him  were  oft- 
times  so  far  drawn  that  the  neighbors  had 
much  ado  to  keep  straight  faces.  Whatever 
was  pure,  lovely,  and  of  good  report,  apper- 
tained to  Willie.  And  even  if  a  thing  were 
reprehensible  in  itself,  the  moment  Willie 


128  John  o'  Partletts' 

did  it,  it  became  right.  Facts  were  ignored. 
Willie  was  brave,  handsome,  manly,  the  fu- 
ture hope  of  the  family.  And  certainly  he 
was  the  only  creature  in  the  world  against 
whom  she  never  exercised  her  tongne. 

It  can  be  imagined  then  that  she  carried 
an  angry  heart  away  from  Partletts'. 

Kitty  was  not  one  to  keep  her  feelings  to 
herself ;  she  could  never  be  accused  of  pining 
in  thought.  She  desired  a  vent  for  her  in- 
dignation and  found  it  in  railing  at  the 
Witch.  She  had  always  had  wonderful  sto- 
ries to  tell  of  the  old  woman,  but  now  they 
became  thrice  wonderful,  and  the  awful 
things  Witch  Beevish  said  and  did  were 
recounted  daily  to  an  audience  that  found 
almost  its  only  diversion  in  listening  with 
country  credulity  to  gossip  and  tales. 

She  had  secretly  been  irritated  at  seeing 
Jim  snug  and  made  much  of;  and  his  word 
being  taken  against  her  Willie  was  a  thing 
past  human  endurance !  ' '  Huh !  ' '  she  would 
say  to  herself,  snapping  her  eyes,  and  tossing 
up  her  head. 


A  Plan  Is  Frustrated  129 

She  formed  a  plan  which  was  beautifully 
simple.  It  was  just  this:  Steal  Jim  from 
the  Witch!  The  minister  disapproved  her 
having  him ;  and  if  once  he  could  be  securely 
laid  hold  of,  it  would  save  Mr.  Carruthera 
a  sight  of  trouble. 

There  were  those  who  quite  agreed  with 
her,  especially  as  the  thing  might  be  done 
easily.  True,  it  was  seldom  that  the  Witch 
ever  disturbed  the  dust  of  Partlettsville ; 
she  was  known  to  do  all  her  trading  at  Ab- 
bottsville,  a  town  two  miles  on  the  other  side 
of  the  hill  of  Partletts  * ;  —  for  she  accused 
the  Schaftsmires  of  dishonesty,  the  grocer 
also  was  a  cheat  in  her  estimation,  Louisa 
Myers  she  distrusted.  "  Seems  like  we  ain't 
good  enough  for  her,  no  way  we  fix  it !  "  the 
tradespeople  all  declared,  and  loved  her  ac- 
cordingly. It  was  true  that,  as  they  "  fixed 
it,"  they  were  generally  disobliging,  and  by 
no  means  generally  honest.  But  such  little 
foibles  should  be  charitably  overlooked! 

She  did,  however,  occasionally  drive 
through  Partlettsville,  and,  as  we  have  seen, 


130  John  o'  Partletts' 

sometimes  left  her  carriage.  Such  an  occa- 
sion was  to  be  watched  for;  some  one  was 
to  engage  her  in  talk;  "  rile  her  up;  "  then 
Kitty's  Willie,  who  was  strong  and  well  able 
to  execute  a  manreuvre  behind  other  people's 
backs,  would  snatch  little  Jim  from  the  car- 
riage, —  he  would  be  scurried  off  by  those 
waiting  to  assist  in  the  adventure ;  and  vivid 
pictures  were  drawn  of  the  .Witch's  futile 
rage,  and  much  loud  laughter  went  into  the 
making  of  the  plan. 

Accordingly,  one  bright  morning,  about  six 
weeks  after  the  big  storm,  when  Witch  Bee- 
vish's  equipage  was  to  be  seen  slowly  sidling 
down  the  incline  of  Partletts',  word  went 
round,  and  there  was  great  eagerness,  and 
a  quick  gathering  of  those  who  were  to  be 
ringleaders,  and  a  still  larger  gathering  of 
those  who  were  to  be  audience. 

"  She's  comin'!  "  was  whispered,  and  the 
admonition  given:  "  Don't  look  too  inter- 
ested! " 

Groups  of  Partlettsvillites  lounged  along, 
pretending  to  be  intent  upon  nothing,  but 


A  Plan  Is  Frustrated  131 

secretly  nudging  each  other.  It  was  exciting 
and  exhilarating;  and  the  Witch  came  on! 

She  came  on,  turned  the  corner  into  the 
high  street,  and  she  and  her  equipage  stood 
out  in  full  view.  Surreptitious  glances  were 
taken.  There  was  Jim  just  as  had  been 
hoped,  sitting  beside  her  on  the  front  seat. 
But  what  was  this,  stalking  behind  the  car- 
riage? Partlettsville  looked  and  gasped. 

The  great,  hairy  creature,  in  form  as  big 
as  a  calf,  was  familiar  —  too  familiar  to 
their  eyes.  Familiar  that  enormous  head, 
slightly  lowered,  surrounded  by  the  ruff  of 
coarse  hair;  familiar  that  scowling  fore- 
head, the  fierce  eyes,  and  lips  a  trifle  parted. 

The  strangeness,  the  unexpectedness  of  it 
struck  them  dumb.  The  spokesman,  who  was 
to  "  rile  "  up  the  Witch,  was  silent;  the 
audience  melted;  and  Willie,  the  bold  kid- 
napper, came  not  forth. 

Meantime  the  strange  procession  passed 
on  up  the  street,  the  old  horse  limping  lei- 
surely, the  Witch  in  her  striped  robe,  with 
little  Jim  seated  securely  beside  her;  and, 


132  John  o'  Partletts' 

pawing  slowly  after,  John,  —  John  Frenchy 
no  longer,  but  John  o'  Partletts',  hideous, 
huge,  with  a  certain  gaunt  majesty  of  his 
own,  and  with  a  pride  revived  and  whole.  A 
dog  with  an  abiding-place,  a  new  trust,  and 
a  friend. 


CHAPTER  X 

A   LIGHT   GOES   OUT   IN    THE   VALLEY 

MB.  CAERUTHERS  had  long  proposed  to  him- 
self to  take  up  the  affair  of  Jim  definitely. 

But  this  Winter  much  slipped  past  him 
which  he  had  purposed  to  do.  The  truth  was 
he  worked  with  a  divided  heart.  Strive  as 
he  would,  draw  himself  together  as  he  would, 
he  often  found  himself  distrait.  And  old 
Elsa,  watching  him,  would  shake  her  head. 

"  The  Maister  can  no  blind  himself 
longer, "  she  thought.  "  The  thing's  become 
too  plain  for  mortal  eye  to  pass  over." 

What  Elsa  saw,  the  Carruthers  children 
felt  with  the  quick  sensitiveness  of  repressed, 
responsible  children,  and  gravely  went  about 
with  a  certain  sad  meaning  in  their  looks. 
Even  the  brightness  of  little  Margy's  humor 
seemed  dimmed.  In  the  midst  of  laughter 
she  would  stop,  put  her  hand  on  Elsa's  face, 
133 


134  John  o'  Partletts' 

and  look  inquiringly  into  the  old  woman's 
deep-set  eyes. 

The  neighbors,  too,  shook  their  heads  when, 
they  passed  the  rectory;  and  on  Sunday 
mornings  glanced  at  the  pastor's  pew  to  see 
if  his  little  lady  were  able  to  be  out. 

For  every  one  loved  Evelyn  Carruthers. 
She  was  one  of  those  rare  beings  who  can 
pass  through  life  in  even  a  small,  censorious 
community  without  giving  offence.  Very 
gentle,  very  quiet,  keeping  to  herself,  and 
dutifully  tending  her  own  affairs,  which  were 
multitudinous ;  giving  assistance,  but  seldom 
advice ;  rather  timid,  but  capable  and  tender 
in  her  own  home,  she  offered  little  oppor- 
tunity for  criticism,  even  from  the  most  carp- 
ing. There  were  perhaps  two  or  three  who, 
on  occasion,  remarked  that:  "  'Twas  a  pity 
the  parson  had  not  a  more  forcible  wife! 
A  man  in  his  position  needed  a  woman  who 
could  take  a  stand!  "  Be  that  as  it  may, 
Evelyn  Carruthers  did  the  best  she  could, 
and  if  limitations  she  had,  they  were  those 
of  nature,  not  of  will. 


A  Light  Goes  Out  in  the  Valley    135 

Indeed,  she  had  done  the  best  she  could  for 
so  long  that  now  a  great  weariness  was  com- 
ing over  her.  She  grew  paler  and  frailer 
each  day,  but  she  kept  herself  ever  at  her 
post,  ever  at  her  round  of  ceaseless  and 
pressing  duties.  For,  in  her  life,  duty  had 
so  long  been  the  watchword  that  to  care  for, 
or  save  herself,  would  have  seemed  to  her  a 
self-indulgence. 

Her  husband  at  first  refused  to  see  the 
signs  that  others  saw ;  he  felt  that  this  blow 
could  not  fall  on  him.  Strong,  self-reliant 
man  though  he  was,  he  unconsciously  evaded 
the  bitter  truth,  until  at  last  the  time  came 
when  he  could  evade  it  no  longer. 

The  time  came  when  she  could  no  longer 
tend  her  duties.  And  then  the  dreadful  day 
came  when  she  did  not  rise  from  her  bed. 
She  was  ill ;  the  fact  had  to  be  acknowledged. 
The  house  became  quiet.  And  then  the  chil- 
dren could  no  longer  go  and  come  in  their 
mother's  room.  And  after  that,  having  once 
laid  down  the  burden  of  care  and  responsi- 
bility, she  sank  so  rapidly  that  even  those 


136  John  o'  Partletts' 

who  had  watched  her  closely  were  sur- 
prised. 

11  It's  no  long  she'll  be  here  now!  "  Elsa 
said  to  herself  in  the  silent  kitchen.  "  No 
long!  " 

And  no  long  it  was. 

Winter  had  slipped  by.  Skies  were  tinged 
with  the  pink  and  promise  of  Spring,  snows 
were  melting  everywhere,  little  streams  run- 
ning, and  over  on  the  south  side  of  the  hill 
of  Partletts'  the  first  snowdrops  were  sha- 
king their  delicate  white  cups  in  the  chill 
breeze,  and  here  and  there  a  forward  violet 
could  be  seen  pushing  up  through  the  leaves 
to  open  a  brave  blue  eye  upon  a  rather  in- 
hospitable world. 

Just  at  this  time,  when  the  days  were  a 
bit  longer  and  brighter,  Evelyn  Carruthers' 
dark  eyes  closed.  She  had  brought  eight 
lives  into  the  world,  with  the  coming  of  a 
ninth,  her  own  life  —  which  had  always  been 
much  like  a  frail,  but  clear  and  cheerful  light 
—  was  quenched.  There  was  a  faint  cry 


A  Light  Goes  Out  in  the  Valley    137 

and  then  a  very  deep  stillness.     Her  baby 
breathed  but  once,  and  died  with  her. 

The  children,  accustomed  to  self-control, 
quietly  did  old  Elsa's  bidding;  and  grave 
as  grown  people,  they  made  no  demonstra- 
tion of  the  pain  that  wrung  their  hearts  all 
the  more  deeply  because  it  must  be  smoth- 
ered. All  their  lives  they  had  been  accus- 
tomed to  a  father's  discipline,  but  they  had 
also  been  accustomed  to  a  mother's  love. 
And  now,  what  were  they  to  do  without  the 
love! 

Only  little  Margy  lifted  her  voice  in  loud 
weeping,  voicing  the  dreadful  ache,  and 
would  not  be  comforted. 

And  the  tall,  grave  man  sat  in  his  study, 
his  head  in  his  hands,  his  lips  set.  No  one 
came  to  him,  no  one  dared  speak  to  him ;  he 
wished  no  one  to  speak  to  him.  He  had 
always  stood  alone,  his  rigid  gravity  setting 
a  wall  around  him.  Only  to  her  had  his 
nature  gone  out;  only  to  her  had  he  ever 
spoken  as  from  heart  to  heart.  And  now  a 


138  John  o'  Partletts' 

terrible  loneliness,  a  fearful  void  seemed  to 
open  within  him  and  all  about  him.  Alone, 
in  the  relentless  presence  of  death,  the  dark- 
ness and  mystery ! 

But  no!  Life  with  its  responsibilities,  its 
hundred  duties,  was  calling!  He  had  no 
right  to  loiter,  scarcely  to  pause,  over  a  per- 
sonal grief.  Already  personal  feeling  had 
stood  between  him  and  his  work.  For  this 
last  Winter  he  had  been  but  a  half-hearted 
laborer.  Conscience  spoke  with  a  harsh 
voice.  He  closed  his  teeth:  "  Though  He 
slay  me!  "  he  murmured;  crushed  back  the 
questioning,  the  tears  and  pain,  and  rose, 
pale,  not  to  bow  before  his  grief  again. 

No  one  ever  saw  him  shed  a  tear.  He  con- 
ducted the  services  himself  over  his  wife 
without  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  without  a 
softened  glance  or  touch  of  emotion,  like  a 
man  of  iron.  His  congregation  were  dumb; 
and  his  children  wiped  their  eyes  furtively, 
as  if  they  were  committing  a  crime. 

Upon  the  hill  of  Partletts'  an  old  woman 
stood  as  the  bells  tolled.  She  had  plucked 


A  Light  Goes  Out  in  the  Valley    139 

a  few  early  snowdrops  and  violets;  and  if 
the  little  darkey  boy  and  great  dog  who  stood 
beside  her  had  looked  into  her  eyes  they 
would  have  seen  them  to  be  dim. 

As  the  bells  tolled,  she  stretched  out  her 
hand  and  threw  the  flowers  toward  the  val- 
ley, as  if  for  a  token,  and  the  dimness  of 
her  eyes  cleared  as  they  brightened  and  took 
fire. 

"  Had  you  given  her  more  of  these,  Henry 
Carruthers,  and  less  of  that  same  doleful 
tolling,  you  might  have  had  her  with  you 
longer,"  she  murmured. 

She  stood  still,  looking  down  into  the  val- 
ley. 

The  dreary  toll  of  the  bells,  and  the  run- 
ning of  the  stream  around  Partlettsville  were 
the  only  sound  that  came  to  her.  The  bare 
little  town  lay  outspread  in  the  pale  sun- 
shine, and  at  the  far  end  she  saw  the  church, 
with  its  door  standing  open,  and  beyond,  in 
the  graveyard,  a  heap  of  soil  thrown  up  be- 
side an  open  grave. 

She  recalled  how  once  the  parson's  little 


140  John  o'  Partletts' 

lady  had  found  her  way  up  to  Partletts ',  and 
she  seemed  to  see  her  bright  hair,  and  hear 
her  pleased  voice  exclaiming :  '  *  Oh  —  but 
this  is  a  garden !  ' ' 

*  *  Poor  girl !  ' '  she  murmured,  with  full 
eyes.  ' '  Poor  girl !  ' '  For,  to  the  old  woman, 
she  who  had  died  down  in  the  valley  at  the 
age  of  thirty-five  seemed  in  reality  but  a 
girl  indeed. 


"  BROUGHT  HER  CHAIR   OUT  ON  HER  LITTLE  PIAZZA  AND   SAT 
THERE   ROCKING   AND    GOSSIPING." 


CHAPTER   XI 

SPRING 

IN  Partlettsville  the  daisies  were  opening 
and  the  hardy  honeysuckle  was  throwing  out 
its  long,  irregular  flowers.  The  clover  was 
green  and  the  lilacs  were  budding.  Along 
the  high  street  storm  doors  were  taken  down, 
and  in  Louisa  Myers'  shop- window  mufflers 
and  mittens  gave  place  to  a  string  of  white 
cotton  gloves  and  some  very  red  paper  kites. 
Kitty  Merryweather,  in  the  late  afternoon, 
brought  her  chair  out  on  her  little  piazza  and 
sat  there  rocking  and  gossiping.  Eows  of 
ducks  waddled  cheerfully  in  the  puddles 
along  the  high  street,  and  boys  sat  on  fence 
palings  exchanging  cat-calls  and  whistles. 

Partlettsville  was  at  its  cheerfullest ;  talk 
and  gossip  went  round,  and,  as  is  usual  in 
the  Spring,  when  the  ground  is  opened  and 

141 


142  John  o'  Partletts' 

planting  begins,  there  was  a  good  bit  to  talk 
about. 

Much  of  the  talk,  however,  centred  about 
the  hill  of  Partletts'  and  the  old  Witch. 
That  person,  ever  aggressive  when  her  sa- 
cred domain  of  Partletts'  was  encroached 
upon,  had  been  aggravating  her  neighbors 
on  this  side  of  the  hill  by  preventing  them 
from  having  what  they  regarded  as  their 
rights,  and  assuming  authority  where  she,  on 
her  side,  most  certainly  had  no  right  to  do  so. 

It  has  been  told  how  Michaelson  stole  forth 
at  night  to  cut  what  wood  he  wanted,  in  order, 
as  he  would  say,  to  avoid  a  "  talkin'  match 
with  the  Witch!  "  But  there  were  others, 
too,  who  went  up  the  hill  and  felled  a  tree 
when  they  liked,  and,  being  of  bolder  metal, 
went  in  the  daytime  and  turned  a  deaf  ear 
to  the  Witch's  "  jawin'."  These  had,  more 
than  once,  carried  out  their  design  with  tri- 
umph. 

There  were  those,  too,  who,  in  the  Spring, 
went  up  to  Partletts'  with  game-bag  and  gun, 
and  returned  with  more  than  one  fine  brace 


Spring  143 

of  rabbits.  And  this  was  also  one  of  the 
Witch's  pet  aversions.  She  would  rush  out 
in  her  red  headdress,  following  the  men 
through,  the  wood,  ordering  them  off  "  her 
property,"  and  asking  how  they  dared  come 
here. 

"  In  Winter  there's  not  one  of  you  would 
put  your  foot  to  climb  this  hill !  Let  Spring 
come,  and  easy  walking,  and  here  you  are 
with  your  axes  and  your  guns,  to  shoot  the 
creatures,  and  cut  the  trees!  " 

Sometimes  the  men  mocked;  sometimes 
they  paid  no  attention.  In  any  case  they 
did  as  they  pleased,  killed  what  they  wanted 
and  went  away. 

But  this  Spring  all  this  was  changed! 

Michaelson,  cutting  a  tree  one  night  on  the 
lower  side  of  Partletts',  suddenly  heard  a 
whistle,  then  a  rush ;  the  next  moment  a  pair 
of  eyes  were  glaring  at  him  through  the  dark- 
ness and  a  voice  cried:  "Go!  as  fast  as  you 
can,  or  my  dog  will  kill  you !  "  And  he  went. 

So  it  was  at  all  times.  Nothing  could  stir 
on  that  hill  but  what,  crashing  through  the 


144  John  o'  Partletts' 

underbrush,  would  come  a  great  form;  fol- 
lowing would  appear  a  red  headdress,  and, 
in  the  rear,  a  little  black  face,  eyes  rolling 
in  wonder  and  excitement. 

Not  a  tree  was  felled,  not  a  rabbit  shot  on 
Partletts'  this  Spring;  and  great  and  vehe- 
ment was  the  anger  accordingly. 

The  Witch  meantime  was  most  trium- 
phant. She  loved  to  accomplish  her  will  by 
force  of  arms.  To  say  to  her  enemies :  ' '  Do 
this !  ' '  and  see  it  done.  In  John  o '  Partletts ' 
she  had  such  an  ally  as  she  had  scarcely 
dreamed  of,  and  he  proved  so  remarkably 
intelligent  that  he  understood  every  word 
she  spoke  to  him.  She  had  but  to  motion  the 
great  beast  and  her  will  was  done  as  if  she 
had  been  an  army  with  banners.  For  the 
first  time  she  was  supreme  ruler  of  her  do- 
main! 

But  in  Partlettsville  there  was  more  and 
more  anger  and  much  talk  of  shooting  the 
big  beast;  but  this  was  not  so  easily  come 
at.  As  Gus  Schaftsmire  said: 

11  Them  three  travels  in  a  trio!     If  you 


Spring  145 

winged  one  you'd  most  likely  wing  the  wrong 
one.  And  she  does  it  on  purpose  —  the  cun- 
nin'  old  fox!  " 

In  this  way  a  real  feud  sprang  up  between 
the  Witch  and  the  Partlettsvillites ;  it  was 
bitter  on  both  sides,  and  many  the  threats 
that  were  uttered. 

The  Witch  never  came  into  Partlettsville 
now,  not  through  fear,  —  she  being  one  who 
feared  not  the  dust  of  battle,  —  but  to  prove 
her  contempt  and  scorn.  When  she  went 
abroad,  it  was  to  Abbottsville,  with  her  old 
horse  and  her  two  retainers,  to  get  her  sup- 
plies. She  always  locked  up  her  tiny  cottage 
carefully,  fastened  all  the  shutters,  and  ad- 
justed what  she  called  her  "  trap,"  an  ar- 
rangement by  which,  if  any  one  should  break 
into  her  front  door,  a  well  balanced  flat-iron 
would  fall  on  his  head.  The  old  woman  had 
a  childlike  faith  in  the  most  simple  and  prim- 
itive arrangements,  and  this  invention  gave 
her  a  most  wonderful  sense  of  security. 

More  than  once  she  met  some  of  her  ene- 
mies upon  the  road,  who  threatened  to  go  up 


146  John  o'  Partletts' 

to  Partletts'  and  "  raise  the  roof  "  in  her 
absence. 

11  And  if  you  do,"  she  cried  back,  "  re- 
member this  —  something  awful  will  happen 
to  you !  I  have  warned  you !  ' ' 

She  was  thinking  of  the  flat-iron;  but  she 
threw  such  a  dramatic  horror  into  her  voice 
that  she  made  them  think  of  witches,  con- 
jurations and  spells. 


CHAPTER   XH 

THE   LOSING   OF   JIM 

ONE  warm,  showery  afternoon  toward  mid- 
summer Gus  Schaftsmire  was  driving  along 
a  side  road  near  Abbottsville  when  he  saw, 
passing  along  the  Abbottsville  turnpike,  the 
old  Witch  in  her  carriage,  with  the  great  dog 
following  —  and  Jim  was  not  with  them ! 

He  drew  up,  waited  until  she  was  out  of 
sight,  then,  gaining  the  turnpike  himself, 
whipped  up  his  horse  and  came  galloping 
into  Partlettsville. 

He  jumped  out  of  his  wagon  and  threw  the 
reins  over  the  horse's  neck. 

"  Come  on!  "  he  cried  out  to  Michaelson, 
who  chanced  to  be  passing  along  the  side- 
walk. "I'm  goin'  up  yonder  to  get  the  little 
nigger!  " 

147 


148  John  o'  Partletts' 

Old  Schaftsmire  came  running  out  of  the 
shop  in  his  shirt  sleeves  and  stained  butch- 
er's apron. 

"  No,  you  ain't!  "  he  shouted.  "  You're 
goin'  to  stay  right  here  an'  help  me  unload 
this  wagon!  " 

"  Think  so?  "  cried  Gus  with  a  grin. 
' '  Look  to  it  yourself  then !  ' '  And  he  sprang 
round  on  the  other  side  of  the  horse.  For 
he  was  a  most  unfilial  son ;  the  old  man  had 
a  hot  temper,  and  not  infrequently  he  and 
Gussie  came  to  violent  fisticuffs. 

"  John  Frenchy,"  continued  Gus  trium- 
phantly, "  is  on  the  road  to  Abbottsville  with 
his  dear,  his  best  beloved  Missis,  an'  the  little 
black  one  is  up  there  by  his  lonesome.  Come 
on  —  it 's  the  chanct !  An'  there  ain't  no  time 
to  stand  considering  neither,  because,  slow  as 
she  goes  with  that  old  cripple  of  hers,  I  had 
to  be  slower  still  gittin'  back,  on  account  of 
my  load!  " 

"  Slow!  "  cried  out  his  father.  "  It  looks 
like  it,  don't  it!  "  pointing  to  the  lathered 
animal  in  the  shafts.  "  An'  if  you'd  found- 


The  Losing  of  Jim  140 

ered  my  horse  for  one  o'  your  danged 
tricks —  " 

"  Never  mind  him,"  Gussie  interrupted, 
jerking  his  head  toward  his  father.  "  Let 
him  jaw  to  hisself !  You  run  as  I  tell  you, 
git  some  fellers  together,  —  an'  a'  axe,  an* 
a  crowbar!  "  And  he  dodged  past  his  father 
into  the  shop,  out  again,  and  up  the  street 
with  an  energy  and  quickness  that  would 
have  pleased  the  old  man  much  could  he  have 
seen  it  applied  to  business. 

An  enthusiastic  group  gathered;  Willie 
Merryweather  foremost  among  them. 

"  Is  you  sure  you  see  the  dog,  Gus?  "  he 
rigorously  inquired. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Gus,  who  was  in  high,  fa- 
cetious humor,  "  jiggin'  along  the  road  to 
Abbottsville.  He  won't  be  back  for  an  hour 
to  come.  So  forward's  the  cry  an'  call!  ' 

Forthwith  the  procession  moved  upon 
Partletts',  the  axe  and  crowbar  appearing 
according  to  Gus's  martial  directions. 

There  was  a  flutter  along  the  high  street, 
windows  were  opened,  questions  asked: 


150  John  o'  Partletts' 

11  Say!  "  shouted  some  wit,  "  where  yo' 
goin'?  To  hunt  wild  Injuns?  " 

li  No!  "  yelled  back  Gussie.  "  Tame  Af- 
rican hunt !  ' '  Which  repartee  brought  down 
a  shout  of  laughter. 

Old  Schaftsmire  stood  in  the  street,  his 
wagon  to  unload,  much  disgruntled,  and  vig- 
orously admonishing  his  son  to :  "  Leave  the 
old  crone  alone,  and  tend  to  his  own  busi- 
ness! " 

Soon  the  party  was  out  of  sight,  lost  in 
the  leafy  shade  of  Partletts'.  They  sprang 
up  the  side  of  the  hill.  The  little  brook  ran 
by  them,  clear,  over  large  round  stones ;  and 
behind  lay  Partlettsville  baked  and  bare,  the 
old  willows  drooping  in  the  heat  and  covered 
with  dust.  But  above  all  was  fresh  and  cool. 
A  breeze  that  swept  the  hill-top  kept  every- 
thing in  motion,  and  the  sunshine  made  a 
hundred  changing  patterns  as  it  flickered 
over  the  shaded,  grey  trunks  of  the  beech 
trees. 

Now  they  reached  the  big  pine  and  the 
little  one,  and  plunged  down  on  the  other 


The  Losing  of  Jim  151 

side.  Partlettsville  was  out  of  sight  in  an 
instant;  and  then  suddenly  through  a  break 
in  the  trees  the  Witch's  cottage  and  garden 
appeared. 

The  garden  was  full  of  flowers.  It  lay  with 
the  afternoon  sun  upon  it,  just  as  when  Jim 
had  first  seen  it,  only  now  it  was  in  its  mid- 
summer glory,  —  and,  how  carefully  laid  out, 
how  perfectly  planned  so  that  each  plant 
should  receive  the  right  amount  of  shade, 
the  right  amount  of  sunshine,  only  the  old 
Witch  knew,  and  its  own  perfectly  successful 
beauty  testified.  The  verbenas  were  in  full 
bloom,  two  splendid  beds  of  pink,  purple, 
white  and  crimson.  In  the  very  centre  rose 
the  Witch's  August  lilies,  swaying  delicately 
on  their  graceful  stems,  and  flanking  them 
on  either  side,  a  glorious  patch  of  salvia. 

It  was  no  wonder  that  the  parson's  little 
lady  had  exclaimed:  "  This  is  a  garden!  " 

But  Gus  and  his  followers  paused  neither 
to  observe  nor  admire.  They  jumped  over 
the  flower  beds  and  surrounded  the  tiny  cot- 
tage, calling  to  each  other,  and  examining 


152  John  o'  Partletts' 

doors  and  windows.  Everything  down-stairs 
was  securely  fastened,  but  it  was  a  warm 
day,  and  one  of  the  upper  windows  stood 
open.  They  had  scarcely  perceived  this  be- 
fore what  should  appear,  framed  in  it,  but  a 
little  black,  terrified  face ! 

There  was  a  shout. 

1 '  We  've  got  him !    "We  Ve  got  him !  ' ' 

Little  Jim's  heart  must  have  stood  quite 
still  at  the  cry. 

Then  there  were  demands  for  a  ladder. 
One  was  found,  set  up,  and  Gus  and  Willie 
Merryweather  were  mounting  in  a  flash. 

Poor  Jim  had  nowhere  to  hide ;  in  the  tiny 
cottage  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  closet 
—  so  he  ran  behind  a  bed,  hugged  the  post 
in  both  his  arms,  and  as  his  enemies  ap- 
peared in  the  room,  cried  out  with  all  his 
might : 

"  I  ain't  a  gwine!  Leaf  me  be!  I  tells 
yo'  I  ain't  a  gwine!  " 

And  if  anything  could  have  added  to  Willie 
Merryweather 's  delight  in  the  whole  adven- 
ture, it  was  this  scene. 


The  Losing  of  Jim  153 

He  began  to  rock  about  the  room,  doubled 
over  with  laughter. 

"  Oh,  Gus,"  he  cried,  mimicking  the  little 
darkey's  voice,  "  what  we  gwine  do  now? 
'Cause  he  says  he  ain't  a  gwine!  He  ain't 
a  gwine!  " 

Gus  gave  vent  to  one  irrepressible  guffaw, 
then  he  settled  to  business. 

"  Funny,  eh?  "  he  exclaimed,  eying  Willie 
sarcastically.  "  Not  so  funny,  though,  if  the 
old  woman  gits  back  before  we're  clean  out 
o '  this  here !  Here,  sonny !  "to  Jim.  '  *  Turn 
loose!  .We  ain't  goin'  to  take  the  bed-post 
—  it's  you  we  want!  " 

And  Gus,  accustomed  daily  to  shoulder- 
ing whole  beeves  and  muttons,  made 
nothing  of  dislodging  Jim  from  his 
abiding-place  and  hoisting  him  over  his 
shoulder. 

Those  below  held  the  ladder  steady,  while 
Willie,  from  above,  held  Jim's  hands  to  pre- 
vent him  from  seizing  the  window-ledge, 
which  he  had  a  tendency  desperately  to  do 
while  explaining: 


154  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  I  b 'longs  'long  o'  Mis'  Beevish!  I  don't 
b  'longs  'long  o '  you !  ' ' 

Once  on  the  ground,  there  was  self-con- 
gratulation, —  the  thing  having  been  done  so 
quickly  and  easily  that  they  were  surprised 
themselves.  But  there  was  no  time  to  loiter. 
Once  upon  solid  ground,  Gus's  vein  of  humor 
came  uppermost  once  more. 

"  Stop  your  clackin'  now!  "  he  remarked 
to  Jim.  "  You  don't  really  want  to  stop 
here,  you  know.  You  only  think  you  do,  an' 
that's  along  o'  bein'  bewitched!  What  you 
really  want  is  to  come  along  o*  us!  So  just 
get  that  before  your  mind,  an'  it'll  save  you 
a  lot  o'  uneasiness." 

Jim  could  not  see  it  in  this  light,  and  find- 
ing his  face  set  toward  Partlettsville,  and 
himself  forcibly  conducted  in  that  detested 
direction,  he  began  to  cry  out  and  draw  back. 

"  I  tells  yo'  I  ain't  a  gwine!  "  he  reiter- 
ated helplessly,  in  the  face  of  "  gwine  "  as 
fast  as  his  captors  could  haul  him  along. 
"  Leaf  me  be,  I  tells  yo'!  "  And  he  caught 
hold  of  the  corner  of  the  house,  the  tree 


The  Losing  of  Jim  155 

trunks,  and  even  the  twigs  and  branches,  to 
hold  himself  back. 

To  no  avail.  He  was  hurried,  scurried, 
scampered  down  the  hill. 

"When  they  came  to  the  very  last  slope  they 
scampered  down  so  swiftly,  and  with  so  much 
loud  laughter,  that  they  looked  like  an  hilari- 
ous picnic  party  returning  from  a  successful 
outing. 

The  only  sober  member  was  little  Jim. 
He  was  very  sober  indeed.  He  had  given  up 
crying;  it  did  no  good,  and,  besides,  he  was 
too  frightened.  He  just  felt  himself  rushed 
along,  helpless  and  abandoned  to  his  fate. 

And  so  they  scampered  into  Partlettsville. 
It  was  almost  dark,  it  having  been  late  when 
they  started  out.  And  immediately  the  ques- 
tion arose  as  to  what  would  be  done  with  Jim. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

JIM    PROVES   A   PROBLEM 

As  they  rounded  the  corner  that  led  into 
the  high  street  some  one  chanced  to  glance 
behind. 

*  *  Look !  ' '  was  the  cry. 

High  up  on  the  ridge  of  Partletts'  a  lan- 
tern was  to  be  seen  waving.  It  was  already 
so  dark  up  there  among  the  trees  that  they 
could  see  no  figure;  but  there  was  not  a 
doubt  that  any  one  standing  on  that  height 
could  see  them  plainly  as  they  rushed  in  a 
group  over  the  bare  little  sidewalk. 

''It's  a  signal!  She's  wavin'  us  back!  " 
some  one  cried. 

"Already!"  gasped  Gus.  "I  ain't 
thought  she  'd  had  time  to  get  back  so  quick  I 
See  here,  —  she'll  be  down  on  us !  She  ain't 
goin'  to  stand  there  wavin'  no  lantern! 
She'll  be  comin'  on!  " 

156 


Jim  Proves  a  Problem  157 

"  She's  comin'  on  now!  "  shouted  some 
one. 

And,  sure  enough,  the  light  had  begun  to 
descend.  It  even  seemed,  in  the  stillness  of 
the  gathering  dusk,  that  they  could  hear  a 
crashing  movement  among  the  twigs  and 
underbrush  high  above  them.  The  sound 
was  but  too  suggestive. 

"  Come  on!    Come  a-runninM  " 

Gus  Schaftsmire  began  to  pant.  Willie 
Merryweather's  face,  losing  the  bright  red 
of  pleasurable  triumph,  became  pale.  Hang- 
ers on,  who  had  hastened  to  join  the  party 
when  it  came  picnic  fashion  down  the  hill, 
melted  away. 

11  We  must  git  him  into  a  house  —  an'  our- 
selves into  a  house!  "  cried  Michaelson. 

But  into  what  house? 

Kitty  Merryweather's  was  the  nearest,  and 
into  it  they  bundled  Jim,  Willie  throwing 
open  the  door  with  a  kick. 

Kitty  ran  out  into  the  hall,  a  lamp  in  her 
hand,  a  broad  grin  on  her  face. 

'  *  Well,  if  you  ain  't  got  him !  ' '  she  ex- 


158  John  o'  Partletts' 

claimed  admiringly.  * '  I  says  to  myself  when 
I  hears  Willie  was  gone  up  with  them,  —  I 
says  to  myself:  *  If  darin'ness  '11  fetch  him, 
they'll  'ave  him  back  within  the  hour!  ' 

But  her  son  did  not  look  as  pleased  as 
might  be  expected  at  these  laudations. 

"  Yes,"  he  replied,  making  toward  the 
shelter  of  the  inner  room.  '  *  We  Ve  got  him. 
But  she's  after  us  already.  Makin'  down  the 
hill,  an'  her  dog  with  her,  not  a  doubt!  ' 

11  Then  why,  in  the  name  o'  gracious,  'ave 
you  brought  him  in  here!  "  asked  Kitty, 
pointing  at  Jim.  "  Ain't  you  know  the  old 
woman  hates  me?  An'  you  too,  Willie! 
Ain't  we  the  first  people  she's  goin'  to  sus- 
picion? I  won't  'ave  her  comin'  here  with 
that  beast!  Gus  Schaftsmire,  take  'im  out 
o*  this  —  take  'im  to  your  own  'ouse!  An' 
Willie!  come  in  the  kitchen;  I  won't  'ave 
you  out  in  the  street  when  there's  dan- 
ger! " 

Willie  was  about  to  avail  himself  of  this 
invitation,  but  before  he  could  do  so  found 
himself  bundled  out  upon  the  door-step.  Gus 


Jim  Proves  a  Problem  159 

had  no  idea  of  being  deserted  by  his  support- 
ers. 

Again  the  question  faced  them;  —  where 
to  take  Jim? 

Michaelson's?    Too  far! 

Schaftsmire's?  "  The  old  man's  as  mad 
as  a  hornet  with  me!  "  declared  Gus,  wiping 
his  brow. 

The  minister's?  But  did  they  really  dare 
make  a  scene  at  the  minister's?  Besides, 
the  way  there  lay  in  open  view  of  the  hill. 

"  Deacon  Sawrey's?  "  said  some  one. 

The  deacon's  house  was  near,  and  he  hated 
the  old  Witch,  having  once  had  an  alterca- 
tion with  her.  No  better  place  could  be 
thought  of;  and  there  was  no  time  to  think 
long! 

They  scurried  Jim  across  the  road  and  up 
a  by-street.  The  house  was  one  of  the  better 
class  in  Partlettsville ;  it  stood  back  in  quite 
a  plot  of  ground,  and  had  lace  curtains  at 
all  the  windows. 

Deacon  Sawrey  himself  appeared  at  the 
door.  He  was  a  pompous  man,  with  pink 


160  John  o'  Partletts' 

cheeks  and  large  whiskers.  The  moment  he 
saw  the  group  at  his  door  he  put  both  hands 
in  his  pockets  and  began  jingling  his  money 
quite  desperately  —  not  with  the  idea  of  giv- 
ing any  of  it  away,  because  that  he  was  sel- 
dom known  to  do,  but  out  of  amazement  and 
concern. 

1 '  Why  —  why,  what 's  the  meaning  of 
this?  "  he  demanded. 

It  was  quite  awkward,  now  that  they  were 
face  to  face  with  the  deacon,  to  say  what  they 
had  come  for.  Time  pressed,  however,  and 
Gus  explained  that  they  had  brought  Jim 
down  from  Partletts'.  Mr.  Carruthers  would 
approve,  he  knew.  They  wanted  to  put  him 
in  some  safe  place  over-night.  Would  the 
deacon  take  charge  of  him  till  morning?  He 
very  politely  did  not  mention  that  the  Witch 
and  her  dog  were  already  coming  down  the 
hill. 

Mrs.  Sawrey,  who  had  been  listening,  came 
forward. 

"  No  —  no !  "  she  cried  emphatically. 
11  You  cannot  bring  him  in  here!  Look  at 


Jim  Proves  a  Problem  161 

their  boots,  all  covered  with  mud!  "  she 
added. 

' '  Yes,  ma  'am,  but  we  got  to  put  him  some- 
wheres!  "  exclaimed  Gus  desperately. 

The  deacon  began  again  distractedly  rat- 
tling his  money:  ".Why  —  what's  that  to 
us !  "he  began. 

"Not  here!"  declared  Mrs.  Sawrey. 
"  Never!  I  never  allow  strange  children  in 
my  house!  My  Evey's  too  delicate!  Take 
him  away!  " 

At  this  moment  a  plump  little  girl  peeped 
from  the  parlor  door,  and  her  mother  in- 
stantly cried  out  and  waved  her  hands. 

"  Go  back!  go  back,  Evey!  "  she  ex- 
claimed, then  waving  in  turn  to  Gus :  *  *  You 
must  go  away!  Take  him  away,  I  tell 
you!  " 

At  the  same  moment  Deacon  Sawrey 
ceased  to  rattle  his  money  and  slammed  the 
door. 

Some  one  ran  to  the  end  of  the  piazza  and 
looked  toward  Partletts'.  The  light  on  the 
hillside  had  disappeared. 


162  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  She's  down  in  the  town,  then!  "  decided 
Gus. 

"  Oh,  Lord,"  cried  Willie  beginning  to 
whimper,  "  she'll  be  on  us  in  a  minute!  " 

11  Shut  up!  "  retorted  the  other.  "  It'll 
take  her  ten  minutes  to  walk  along  the  main 
street." 

"  An'  what's  to  hinder  her  dog  from  run- 
nin'  ahead?  "  was  suggested. 

Willie  writhed.  His  knees  began  to  give 
way. 

"  Oh,  come  on!  "  he  cried.  "  Leave  him 
here !  ' '  indicating  Jim.  * '  Drop  him !  I 
ain't  willin'  to  be  tore  to  pieces  for  him!  " 

Others,  too,  in  imagination,  began  to  feel  a 
hot  breath  and  to  see  a  pair  of  glaring  eyes. 

But  Gus's  fighting  blood  was  up.  He  was 
afraid  of  the  dog,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  he 
hated  the  old  woman.  She  had  stood  between 
him  and  his  sport  all  summer,  and  the  wish 
for  revenge  was  potent. 

"  No,  you  don't!  "  he  shouted,  barring  the 
way  to  the  steps.  "  If  we  give  in  to  her  this 
time,  she  '11  think  she  owns  Partlettsville ! 


Jim  Proves  a  Problem  163 

She  ain't  goin'  to  overreach  me  so  easy! 
Git  together,  an'  heave  him  round  into  the 
barn!  " 

"  'Tain't  possible!  "  exclaimed  the  muti- 
neers. "  It's  too  fur!  " 

In  this  extremity,  peering  out  desperately 
into  the  dark,  some  one  spied  the  dim  outline 
of  a  small  building  near  at  hand. 

* '  The  deacon 's  old  hen-house !  Put  him 
in  there !  It 's  the  only  place  now !  ' ' 

They  jostled  Jim  down  the  steps,  across 
the  stretch  of  yard,  and  fairly  flung  him  — 
more  dead  than  alive  through  fright  —  into 
the  little  shanty. 

None  too  soon !  —  Nay,  not  soon  enough ! 
For  between  the  fence  railing  at  the  corner 
a  great  bounding  form  was  seen  coming  on, 
pausing,  and  coming  on  again.  And  they 
could  hear  the  sound  of  heavy  paws  padding 
swiftly. 

"  He's  on  us!  "  admitted  Gus.  And  forci- 
bly grabbing  Willie  Merryweather  and  one 
or  two  others  who  had  not  their  wits  about 
them  he  flung  them  into  the  hen-house  after 


164  John  o'  Partletts' 

Jim.  Then  he  rushed  in  himself.  It  was  a 
rickety  little  hut,  long  fallen  into  disuse,  and 
the  door  swung  wide  on  rusty  hinges.  He 
caught  at  the  door,  worked,  jerked,  finally 
slammed  it,  and,  at  the  very  instant,  a  dark 
form  cleared  the  little  gate  that  opened  upon 
the  grass  plot,  and  came,  at  a  long,  sweep- 
ing lope,  to  the  place  of  hiding.  For  the  wild 
dog's  scent  had  never  failed  him  yet;  and  all 
his  savage  blood  was  up!  With  a  noise  in 
his  throat  like  rising  thunder,  he  rose  on  his 
hind  legs  and  brought  his  weight  against 
the  rotten  old  door.  Those  behind  who  held 
it  felt  the  whole  fabric  shake.  Then  he  threw 
back  his  head  and  gave  a  cry,  hoarse,  deep, 
with  a  note  of  triumph  in  it. 

It  was  a  signal  to  one  who  followed  swiftly, 
a  lantern  held  high  in  her  trembling  hand, 
her  grey  hair  dishevelled  and  straggling 
about  her  face,  while  that  old  face  was  dis- 
torted by  an  expression  both  of  rage  and 
pain,  and  she  muttered  over  and  over : 

' '  My  child !  They  have  taken  him ! 
Where  have  they  put  my  child?  " 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE   RETURN    OP   JIM 

THE  old  Witch  came  across  the  grass  plot, 
reached  the  hen-house  and  swung  her  lantern 
at  it;  at  the  same  moment  the  dog,  leaping 
up,  crashed  against  the  door  again. 

* '  Give  me  my  child !  ' '  she  cried.  * '  If  you 
have  him  there,  give  him  to  me!  You  cow- 
ards —  to  steal  a  helpless  child,  who  fears 
you!  And  you  think  I  am  a  defenceless  old 
woman!  " 

There  was  a  pause,  then  suddenly  a  stone 
came  crashing  in  at  one  of  the  windows,  and 
again  the  dog's  ponderous  weight  shook  the 
door. 

Those  on  the  inside  began  to  feel  hard- 
pressed.  The  door  was  furnished  with 
neither  bolt  nor  lock,  and  though  they  were 
able  to  hold  it  against  the  dog,  they  feared 
each  time  he  threw  himself  upon  it  that  the 

165 


166  John  o'  Partletts' 

hinge  would  give  way,  or  that  it  would  fly 
in  pieces,  being  so  shaky  and  rotten. 

"  Jim,  Jim!  "  went  on  the  hoarse  old 
voice.  "Answer  me,  child  —  I've  come  to 
get  you!  These  wicked  people  shall  not- 
never  shall  have  you!  Tell  me  you're  there, 
Jim!  John  man  is  with  me,  and  he'll  fight 
for  you ;  —  he  knows  these  people !  The  cow- 
ards !  At  them,  John  man !  ' ' 

And  again  the  lantern  clashed,  and  the 
door  shook  and  trembled  in  every  joint. 

Gus  Schaftsmire  passed  his  arm  over  his 
dripping  forehead,  as  he  stood,  his  broad 
back  braced  against  the  door,  and  he  gave  a 
semblance  of  a  grin,  though  his  face  was 
pale. 

"  What  I'd  give  to  be  out  o'  this!  "  he 
remarked. 

And  though  he  spoke  in  a  whisper,  there 
was  a  sound  from  without  that  made  it 
known  his  voice  was  recognized.  A  gurgle 
and  a  snarl  answered  him,  and  a  hot,  impa- 
tient sniffing  and  the  patter  of  paws  feeling 
at  the  threshold. 


The  Return  of  Jim  167 

"  Curse  you!  "  cried  the  youth,  in  real 
fear.  And  again  John  o'  Partletts'  heard, 
and  responded  more  forcibly,  for  he  came 
plunging  at  the  trembling  boards  that  di- 
vided him  from  his  enemy. 

If  any  human  being  could  roll  into  the  form 
of  a  hedgehog,  that  human  being  was  Willie 
Merryweather  at  this  moment.  Doubled  into 
a  ball,  he  lay  off  at  one  side  of  the  hen-house, 
his  back  to  the  others,  given  over  to  fear, 
and  pretending  to  be  dead  or  near  it.  An- 
other youth  stood  over  Jim,  ready  to  clap 
his  hand  over  his  mouth  the  moment  he  made 
the  least  outcry.  And  Jim  stood  listening  to 
his  friends  outside,  his  heart  beating  in  his 
throat.  To  be  with  them  spelled  friendship 
and  freedom,  while  to  remain  with  his  cap- 
tors meant  terror  and  misery.  The  running 
and  shouting,  the  loud  wrangling,  and  the 
pulling  and  jerking,  together  with  the  fact 
of  finding  himself  again  in  Partlettsville, 
had  quite  thrown  him  into  despair;  his 
senses  seemed  dazed  for  the  time,  and  he 
began  clasping  his  hands  and  mumbling  to 


168  John  o'  Partletts' 

himself,  pausing  when  he  heard  his  friend's 
voice  calling  his  name,  to  listen  with  an  ex- 
pression of  timid  hopefulness. 

And  now  some  one  picked  up  the  stone 
which  the  old  Witch  had  thrown,  and,  spring- 
ing up  to  the  broken  window  and  taking  a 
hurried  aim,  "  gave  it  to  her!  "  It  struck 
against  the  tin  of  the  lantern  and  bounded 
off.  It  was  followed  by  a  billet  of  wood; 
this  was  aimed  more  carefully  and  it  struck 
her  over  the  forehead.  She  put  her  hand  to 
her  head  and  turned  aside. 

"  Done  for!  Done  for!  "  an  immediate 
shout  went  up  —  followed  by  the  ready  ad- 
vice: "  You'd  best  go  home,  old  woman!  " 

But  the  shout  died.  She  turned,  waving 
her  bent  lantern,  and  in  a  voice  now  broken 
by  pain  and  rage,  called  to  the  dog.  And  the 
great  beast,  who  had  seen  and  understood, 
plunged  at  the  door  as  he  had  never  plunged 
before.  The  thin  inch  boards  rattled,  the 
wretched  hinges  groaned.  Another  leap. 
The  lower  hinge  was  giving  way ! 

"Come!"    cried    out    Gus    Schaftsmire. 


The  Return  of  Jim  169 

"  Every  one  of  you!  Put  your  hands  on 
this  here  door!  We  got  to  hold  it  in  place 
somehow !  Do  you  want  that  beast  to  git  his 
head  in  here?  He's  as  strong  as  a  bull!  " 
And  he  strained  every  nerve,  for,  at  the 
sound  of  his  voice,  the  dog  gave  a  bellow 
so  vindictive  and  fierce  that  the  stout  young 
Dutchman  closed  his  eyes  and  breathed  hard. 

The  Sawreys,  disturbed  at  their  peaceful 
supper  table,  had  come  to  the  windows.  Mrs. 
Sawrey,  planting  herself  firmly  in  her  daugh- 
ter's way,  cried  out: 

"Go  back,  Evey!  Go  back!  Mr.  Saw- 
rey," she  went  on  hysterically,  "  I  won't  live 
in  Partlettsville  if  this  sort  of  thing  goes  on ! 
It  is  barbarous !  Eight  in  sight  of  the  church, 
too !  And  in  twenty  minutes  the  young  girls 
will  be  going  by  to  choir  practice!  " 

Mr.  Sawrey 's  money  was  fairly  dancing  in 
his  pockets,  he  rattled  it  so  vigorously  in  his 
anger  and  helplessness. 

"  Go  out  of  my  yard!  "  he  commanded; 
"  every  one  of  you!  Who  gave  you  permis- 
sion to  come  in  here?  My  word!  I  declare 


170  John  o'  Partletts' 

it's  a  most  outrageous  display  of  passion  and 
ignorance!  Old  woman,  I'm  speaking  to 
you!  Take  that  beast  away  —  I  won't  have 
him  on  my  premises;  can't  you  see  that  he's 
frightening  my  wife  and  child!  And  you  — 
at  your  age!  I  wonder  that  you're  not 
ashamed  to  make  such  a  display  of  your- 
self! " 

The  old  woman  turned  slowly.  At  times 
there  was  a  strange  sort  of  dramatic  dignity 
in  her  movements.  There  was  now,  as  she 
held  her  lantern  out  at  arm's  length,  and 
advanced  toward  the  open  window.  But  as 
she  came  within  the  square  of  light,  a  scream 
was  drawn  from  Mrs.  Sawrey.  And  small 
wonder ! 

She  presented  an  appearance  both  pite- 
ous and  repellent.  Her  grey  hair  had  come 
unbound;  it  was  hanging  in  elf-locks,  and  was 
stained  and  flecked  with  the  blood  which  was 
flowing  from  the  wound  in  her  forehead ;  her 
face  was  streaked  with  mud;  her  dress,  all 
disarranged,  was  dabbled  with  red  clay  to 
the  knees,  giving  evidence  of  her  hasty  pur- 


The  Return  of  Jim  171 

suit  on  foot  down  the  hill  of  Parti etts'.  The 
hand  holding  the  lantern  aloft  trembled  with 
agitation;  and  her  harsh  old  face  had  sud- 
denly lost  its  well  denned  lines,  —  it  was 
broken  into  wrinkles  and  was  working  with 
irrepressible  emotion. 

She  stood  out  in  the  square  of  light  from 
the  window,  looking  with  concentrated  gaze 
at  Deacon  Sawrey.  But  she  had  no  con- 
sciousness whatever  of  her  own  appearance. 
It  never  occurred  to  her  that  any  one  looking 
at  her  must  unhesitatingly  have  denominated 
her  crazy.  She  had  but  one  idea  in  her  mind, 
one  intention  in  her  heart,  and  in  this  absorp- 
tion all  else  was  ignored.  She  glanced  up  at 
the  hysterical  woman  in  the  window  with  an 
expression  of  contempt. 

"  Mr.  Sawrey,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  which 
she  evidently  strove  to  make  calm,  "  I  have 
come  here  to  get  my  child !  I  must  have  him 
before  they  frighten  him  any  more.  He  is 
in  there  —  in  great  terror!  You  will  help 
me  get  him  ?  ' ' 

But  the  deacon  did  not  move. 


172  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  If  you  were  half  a  man  you  would  come 
down  here  and  help  me !  "  she  cried,  her 
voice  rising;  then  bitterly:  "  Oh,  not  that 
you  will !  Why  should  you  help  any  one  who 
is  weak  and  defenceless!  But  he  belongs  to 
me,  and  I  tell  you  I  will  have  him  back !  ' ' 

11  And  by  what  right  does  he  belong  to 
you!  "  asked  Deacon  Sawrey,  throwing  back 
his  head  to  look  at  her  judicially  and  nodding 
once  or  twice.  "  Just  tell  me  by  what 
right?  " 

"  By  this  right!  "  she  answered  slowly 
and  distinctly,  coming  a  step  nearer  the  win- 
dow, and  leaning  forward  to  look  with  intent 
earnestness  into  the  man's  face;  "  that  I 
love  him !  And  is  there  another  being  in  the 
world  who  does?  No!  Then  that's  my 
right!  And  I'll  hold  to  it,  too!  "  she  added 
passionately,  "  and  claim  it,  and  make  it 
good!  " 

"  Then,"  said  Deacon  Sawrey,  still  nod- 
ding judicially,  while  he  stood,  his  whole  fig- 
ure slightly  swaying,  hands  in  pockets,  "  if 
you're  so  sure  you've  a  good  right,  why  don't 


The  Return  of  Jim  173 

you  go  to  the  law  about  it?  What's  all  this 
bother  about?  If  you've  a  good  right,  go  to 
the  law,  that's  my  advice." 

The  old  woman  saw  the  mockery  in  his 
face. 

"  And  what  do  I  care  for  your  law,"  she 
cried  out  violently,  "  when  I  have  some 
one  to  fight  for  me  who  is  brave  and  strong, 
and  has  a  greater  heart  than  your  narrow 
little  soul  ever  dreamed  of !  " 

* '  Ha,  ha !  "  burst  out  Deacon  Sawrey. 
"  Do  you  mean  the  dog?  " 

"  I  mean  the  dog!  "  she  replied  in  a  hoarse 
voice,  and  turned  from  him. 

1 '  Much  obliged,  I  'm  sure !  Much 
obliged!  " 

But  sarcasm  and  words  died.  The  next 
instant  such  a  scream  arose  from  the  hen- 
house, such  a  roar  and  rush  that  it  seemed 
as  if  bedlam  itself  were  turned  loose  there. 

And  above  all  came  the  hoarse  voice,  cry- 
ing: 

"  At  them  again,  John  man!  At  them 
again  I  " 


174  John  o'  Partletts' 

And  then  the  screams  rose.  Screams  no 
longer  of  mockery  or  anger,  but  of  fear. 

"  For  God's  sake,  Missis,  call  your  dog 
off!  "  came  GUS  Sehaftsmire's  voice.  "  I 
swear  I  can't  hold  this  door  no  longer;  it's 
comin'  to  pieces!  He'll  kill  us,  that's  what 
it'll  be!  " 

"Be  it  on  your  own  heads!  "  cried  the 
Witch. 

The  dog  obeyed  the  excitement  in  her 
voice,  and  dashing  forward,  hurled  himself 
again  at  the  door.  There  was  a  crash;  a 
plank  loosened  and  fell  aside,  and  those 
within  began  to  whimper  like  children,  and 
even  groaned  aloud. 

'  *  If  you  do  murder  down  there,  I  warn  you 
you'll  repent  it!  "  called  Deacon  Sawrey, 
now  entirely  frightened  himself. 

And  it  seemed  that  a  dreadful  catastrophe 
was  imminent.  What  was  to  prevent  it? 
The  dog,  with  his  great  weight  and  strength, 
was  certain  to  break  the  frail  barricade; 
both  strength  and  courage  of  the  besieged 
were  wavering;  the  door  was  crumbling. 


The  Return  of  Jim  175 

And  behind  that  door  John  o?  Partletts' 
smelled  his  enemies  —  enemies  caught  red- 
handed  ! 

It  was  Jim  who  saved  them  all.  Jim  — 
left  alone  when  all  rushed  to  hold  the  door, 
and  wonderfully  stimulated  by  the  sound  of 
his  friend 's  voice  —  looked  about  him.  Every 
one  had  forgotten,  perhaps  no  one  knew,  that 
Jim  could  climb  like  a  squirrel.  There  was 
a  window  high  in  the  rear,  near  it  a  sort  of 
pole  which  had  once  been  a  hen-roost.  Up 
this  he  shinned,  reached  the  window,  and  the 
next  instant  was  in  the  branch  of  a  friendly 
tree.  To  drop  to  the  ground,  run  round  the 
house,  and  place  himself  beside  his  friend, 
was  the  work  of  a  minute. 

Then  the  old  Witch,  scarcely  believing  her 
own  ears,  heard  a  small,  deep  voice  saying 
right  at  her  elbow : 

"  Mis'  Beevish,  here  I  is!  " 

That  night,  as  the  stars  shone  through  the 
tall  fir  trees  of  Partletts',  a  silent  trio  passed 
the  big  pine  and  the  little  one,  and,  turning 


176  John  o'  Partletts' 

into  the  narrow  path,  saw  the  tiny  cottage 
standing,  a  dark  speck  in  the  starlight. 

The  dazed  terror  was  gone  from  Jim's 
face,  all  the  fury  from  the  old  Witch's,  and, 
as  John  o'  Partletts'  raised  his  great  head 
and  the  clear  light  of  the  stars  gleamed  upon 
his  little  eyes,  none  would  have  recognized 
the  fierce  beast  with  murder  in  his  throat. 

The  hostile  world  was  behind.  Enmity 
and  struggle  were  forgotten.  Solitude,  si- 
lence, and  the  sight  of  the  peaceful  home 
awaiting  them,  cast  a  benediction  over  each. 


CHAPTER  XV 

PABTLETTS* 

THE  long  summer  had  waned.  The  bright 
tints  of  autumn  had  replaced  its  vivid  green. 
Over  the  southern  slope  of  Partletts',  down 
as  far  as  eye  could  reach,  to  the  verge  of 
the  ocean  itself  —  which  rolled,  changing  and 
blue  as  a  liquid  sky  —  there  was  a  blaze  of 
gold  and  red.  The  great,  full  beeches  stood 
up,  a  dull  bronze,  and  the  shaded  leaves  and 
berries  of  the  dogwood  were  of  such  a  bril- 
liant crimson  that  they  seemed  to  flicker  like 
flame  in  the  sunlight. 

Looking  down  that  steep  slope,  with  the 
snowy  shelf  of  beach  and  vivid  ocean  for 
frame,  the  eye  was  lost,  and  the  senses 
seemed  to  swim  in  the  riot  of  color  made 
dazzling  by  the  clear,  penetrating  sunshine, 
and  ever  softly  undulating  in  the  constant 

177 


178  John  o'  Partletts' 

breeze  that  swept  up  from  the  ocean,  smell- 
ing of  brine. 

And  there  was  one  person,  whose  senses  — 
in  the  eyes  of  the  world  not  of  the  soundest 
order  —  swam  indeed. 

Little  Jim,  trundling  a  wheelbarrow,  an  old 
cap  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  busily  en- 
gaged in  "  gyardin-in',"  would  stop  in  his 
work,  and  in  the  long  confabs  between  him- 
self and  the  various  plants  and  tools  and 
utensils:  —  That  is,  he  would  remark  to  a 
geranium  cutting:  "  Here  you  is  —  fine  fo' 
Mis'  Beevish  window  pot!  "  And  then  he 
would  make  the  cutting  reply:  "  No,  sah! 
Leaf  me  be  —  don't  put  no  sha'p  knife  on 
me!  "  To  which  he  would  respond  in  his 
own  person :  ' '  Hi !  So !  You  be  fine  in  Mis ' 
Beevish  window!  An'  I  promise  yo'  dat's 
whar  yo'  gwine!  Come  'long,  Mr.  Trowel, 
an'  help  we  fo'  git  planted!  "  And  Mr. 
Trowel  would  reply:  "  Oh,  I  is  tired  o' 
workin'  all  de  time !  I  is  ol'  an'  rusty,  honey, 
an'  my  p'int  is  mos'  gone!  Leaf  me  res'!  ' 
—  As  has  been  said,  Jim  would  pause  in  all 


Partletts'  179 

this  business  and  confabulation  sometimes 
and  just  sit  back  on  his  heels  and  stare  and 
stare. 

He  would  stare  down  that  wondrous  slope 
minute  after  minute  until  all  its  light,  move- 
ment, and  color  filled  his  eyes.  Filled  his 
heart,  too;  and  his  senses  swam  in  a  child- 
like, sweet  and  deep  contentment. 

And  there  was  no  one  to  hurry  him;  no 
one  to  disturb  him.  Perhaps,  by  his  side,  in 
the  warm  sunshine,  lay  a  great  hairy  form 
with  eyes  half  closed,  but  ever  watchful ;  for 
since  that  August  night  the  little  black  figure 
was  never  left  unguarded.  And,  perhaps, 
through  some  window  a  red  headdress  could 
be  seen  dodging  back  and  forth,  and  occa- 
sionally a  pair  of  sharp  blue  eyes  would  peer 
through  the  pane ;  but  they  always  withdrew 
with  an  expression  of  satisfaction  in  them  at 
sight  of  the  dog  and  child,  and  Jim  might 
have  stared  until  the  stars  were  shining  with- 
out fear  of  admonition  or  reproof. 

But  he  had  no  wish  to  do  so.  It  was  pleas- 
ant to  work  when  no  one  gave  him  heavy 


180  John  o'  Partletts' 

tasks,  or  made  a  great  business  of  seeing 
them  done  on  time,  but  where,  on  the  con- 
trary he  was  praised  and  admired  for  what 
he  did  accomplish.  And  he  was  to  be  seen 
constantly  trundling  his  wheelbarrow,  pat- 
ting bits  of  brick  and  pebble  into  the  garden 
beds,  raking  the  walks,  tying  and  pruning 
plants  and  bushes,  —  for  Jim  had  careful 
hands,  and  when  not  frightened  or  ordered 
peremptorily,  could  accomplish  many  tasks 
very  nicely.  And  when  he  was  not  talking 
to  himself,  or  the  tools,  or  John  o'  Partletts', 
he  could  be  heard  singing  in  his  deep  little 
voice,  which  was  rather  tuneless,  but  had 
something  very  care-free  and  gay  in  its 
sound : 

"Ol'  Mis'  iscallin'! 

Ol'  Mis'  is  callin'! 

Ol'  Mis'  iscallin'  me!" 

And  wherever  he  went,  there,  pawing 
after,  was  the  great  beast,  ever  watchful. 

And  when  pear-picking  season  came,  Jim 
scored  another  triumph.  For  the  Witch  had 
two  pear  trees,  and  it  was  her  wonder  and 


Partletts'  181 

admiration  to  see  his  little,  light  figure  poised 
among  the  branches,  moving  so  agilely,  never 
breaking  a  twig.  John  o'  Partletts'  was 
called  upon  to  look  and  admire.  Which  un- 
doubtedly he  did ;  but  he  had  no  tail  to  wag, 
no  ears  to  cock,  and  a  face  which  nature  had 
not  planned  for  expressing  the  softer  feel- 
ings. But  Jim  and  the  old  "Witch  thought  he 
understood,  and  were  well  satisfied  when  he 
lowered  his  great  head  and  looked  at  them 
with  his  alert,  watchful  eyes. 

And  then  —  what  was  most  surprising !  — 
it  turned  out  that  Jim  was  a  remarkable  cook. 
His  Grandmammy  had  been  a  famous  one, 
and  he  had  watched  her  so  much  that  he  knew 
"  jes'  how  to  fix  things!  "  Not  but  what  he 
was  too  shy  to  put  forward  his  abilities  in 
this  direction  at  first ;  —  but,  on  occasion, 
being  asked  to  watch  the  pot  for  the  old 
Witch,  it  became  evident  that  he  could  fry, 
bake,  and  broil,  with  the  cleverness  of  his 
race. 

This  pleased  the  old  woman  vastly,  and  she 
would  watch  him  fry  bacon  and  turn  eggs 


182  John  o'  Partletts' 

with  unceasing  expressions  of  admiration  at 
his  dexterity.  And  Jim  would  talk  to  the 
frying-pan,  and  admonish  the  bacon  to  "  lie 
straight  in  de  dish  dar!  "  and  inquire  po- 
litely of  the  eggs, ' '  if  dey  was  dun  and  ready 
fo'  be  turn  over1?  "  all  in  his  deep,  serious 
little  voice.  And  the  old  Witch  would  laugh 
until  the  tears  came.  And  then  Jim,  finding 
himself  regarded  as  a  fine  performer,  talked 
faster,  and  more,  bringing  tongs,  poker,  and 
even  the  wood  burning  in  the  stove,  into  the 
conversation,  all  the  while  maintaining  a 
most  serious  and  wise-like  expression ;  look- 
ing for  all  the  world  like  a  little  black  owl, 
gifted  with  hands  and  the  mystery  of  cook- 
ery. 

And  John  o'  Partletts'  would  shake  his 
head  and  even  make  a  clumsy  dash  with  his 
great  paws,  as  if  he  too  knew  it  was  a  good 
thing  to  play,  and  was  trying  to  recollect  that 
he  had  once  been  a  puppy. 

Then  Jim  would  turn  around  and  assure 
him: 

1 '  Oh,  yo '  name  is  in  de  pot,  Marse  Johnny ! 


Partletts'  183 

Don'  yo'  fear  dat!  Yo'  name  is  in  de 
pot!  " 

For  Jim  never  presumed  to  address  John 
o'  Partletts'  as  anything  but  "  Marse 
Johnny  "  after  the  custom  of  his  race  in 
speaking  to  animals  owned  by  "  white  qual- 
ity." 

And  it  was  odd  in  the  morning  to  see  the 
child  with  serious,  respectful  little  face,  serv- 
ing out  "  Marse  Johnny  breakfast,"  while 
the  great  dog  stood  gravely  watching  the 
liberal  supply  of  sugar  scattered  over  his 
porridge;  —  for  Jim  had  discovered  that 
John  o'  Partletts',  despite  his  ferocious  ap- 
pearance, had  a  very  sweet  tooth. 

Whenever  they  went  abroad  now  it  was 
always,  as  Gus  Schaftsmire  said,  "in  a 
trio."  And  this  was  esteemed  necessary  for 
purposes  of  self-protection;  but  they  en- 
joyed it  much  because  they  were  a  fervent 
mutual  admiration  society,  —  and  all  that  the 
world  saw  odd  or  repellent  in  each,  they  saw 
not  at  all. 

What  the  world  called  "  mooniness  "  in 


184  John  o'  Partletts' 

little  Jim,  the  Witch  found  perfectly  natural. 
In  her  eyes  John  o'  Partletts'  was  not  a 
hideous,  ferocious  mongrel,  he  was  an  intel- 
ligent creature,  wonderfully  made,  with  the 
beauty  and  awesomeness  of  mighty  strength. 
When  she  saw  him  bounding  over  the  earth 
she  would  shake  her  head  and  exclaim: 

"  What  a  creature !  What  power  the  Lord 
has  given  him!  " 

And  as  to  the  old  woman  herself,  the  world 
had  not  a  doubt  that  she  was  mad,  but  the 
child  and  dog  believed  in  her  to  the  last  fibre 
of  their  beings,  and  they  followed  her  old 
blue  cotton  skirts  and  red  cambric  headdress 
about  with  as  much  confidence  and  devotion 
as  if  she  had  been  Balkis,  the  great  queen  of 
wisdom  and  wealth. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

THE   RED    BRAND    AT    PARTLETTS* 

IN  the  large  town  of  Abbottsville  nobody 
paid  much  heed  to  the  Witch  and  her  re- 
tainers. Among  the  hundreds  of  country 
rigs  that  were  driven  into  its  main  street 
every  day,  representing  all  degrees  of  pros- 
perity and  dilapidation,  her  strange  old  ve- 
hicle was  remarked,  of  course,  for  its  appear- 
ance must  have  caused  remark  anywhere,  — 
but  no  one  paid  more  than  passing  atten- 
tion, and  no  one  ever  molested  her.  Here 
there  was  no  feeling  of  personal  antagonism 
to  her,  and,  moreover,  Abbottsville  was  a  big, 
thriving  town,  and  people  had  their  own 
affairs  to  attend  to. 

The  Witch  would  peacefully  steer  her  equi- 
page in  and  out  among  the  other  vehicles, 
alight  before  her  tradesman's  door  and  make 
her  purchases. 

This  tradesman  was  an  individual.  On  one 
185 


186  John  o'  Partletts' 

side  he  came  of  Yankee  blood,  on  the  other  it 
was  said  there  was  a  French  strain.  At  any 
rate,  his  name,  William  Finn,  was  Yankee 
enough;  and  his  manners,  polite,  with  a 
touch  of  distinction,  might  have  suggested 
to  the  imaginative  a  distant  connection  with 
the  French  court. 

And,  of  course,  with  such  fine  manners,  one 
might  have  expected  to  be  cheated  in  the 
store  of  Mr.  William  Finn!  But  no  such 
thing!  Mr.  Finn  was  honest;  it  was  his 
habit,  and  nothing  could  shake  him  in  it; 
and,  moreover,  he  was  good-hearted,  and  obli- 
ging. A  treasure  of  a  tradesman !  And  there- 
fore the  Witch  had  selected  him  for  hers. 

These  trips  to  Abbottsville  were  in  the 
nature  of  outings,  everything  about  them 
being  so  pleasant.  The  Abbottsville  turnpike 
was  wide  and  shady,  the  old  horse  walked 
leisurely,  John  o'  Partletts'  had  a  fine  chance 
to  stretch  his  long  legs,  and  he  felt  like  a 
lord,  for  he  never  met  a  dog  as  big  as  he, 
and  those  he  did  meet  respectfully  turned  out 
of  his  way.  Little  Jim,  sitting  in  state  on  the 


The  Red  Brand  at  Partletts'       187 

front  seat  of  the  old  vehicle,  loved  to  listen 
to  the  dreamy  creak  of  the  wheels,  to  watch 
the  passing  teams  and  the  sunshine  breaking 
through  the  thick  chestnut  trees  in  changing 
patterns  over  the  broad  road.  The  Witch 
looked,  as  she  felt,  important,  and  intent 
upon  her  little  business  of  buying  to  the  best 
advantage  of  herself  and  her  retainers. 

And  then,  in  Abbottsville,  the  wait  before 
Mr.  Finn's  store,  was  a  wonderful  time  for 
Jim.  He  would  sit  watching  the  people  and 
teams  and  cars  go  by,  feeling  just  a  little 
frightened  at  the  thought  that  there  was  so 
much  bustle  and  business  in  the  world. 

And  at  length  out  would  come  smiling  Mr. 
Finn,  bearing  a  box  from  which  could  be  seen 
sticking  all  sorts  of  packages:  potatoes, 
sugar,  dried  herrings  on  a  string,  a  flitch  of 
bacon,  etc.  And  when  this  was  slid  into  the 
back  of  the  equipage,  very  carefully  lest  the 
loose  board  should  be  displaced,  and  when 
John  o'  Partletts'  had  come  out  from  among 
the  wheels  and  stretched  and  stood  ready  to 
depart,  and  when  the  Witch  had,  with  great 


188  John  o'  Partletts' 

dignity,  mounted  into  her  seat  and  gathered 
the  reins,  Mr.  Finn  always  remarked: 

"  Well,  Ma'm,  I  see  you  have  your  friends 
with  you.  And  the  old  horse  is  still  travel- 
ling,—  as  I  hope  he'll  continue  to  do  for 
many  a  day !  '  ' 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Finn !  "  the  Witch  would 
reply,  with  a  bow  of  her  own.  "  I  hope  so, 
with  all  my  heart !  ' ' 

And  thus  they  parted  with  mutual  satis- 
faction; the  one  to  disappear  behind  his 
counter,  the  other  to  turn  her  old  horse's 
head  toward  Partletts',  with  the  comfortable 
feeling  that  her  larder  was  stocked  for  a 
week  to  come. 

And  then  back  along  the  broad,  shady  road, 
over  which  the  first  shadows  of  evening  by 
this  time  would  be  stealing,  with  the  thought 
of  home  awaiting  them ;  —  the  hilltop,  bathed 
in  the  warm  light  of  the  setting  sun,  and  the 
tiny  cottage  among  its  flowers. 

One  thing,  however,  could  change  the  as- 
pect of  these  three  as  by  magic.  Any  sight, 


The  Red  Brand  at  Partletts'        189 

sound,  or  reminder  of  Partlettsville  1  At 
such  reminder  the  Witch's  eyes  would  flash, 
her  old  face  become  contorted  with  rage  and 
antagonism;  the  dog's  hair  would  bristle, 
his  lips  snarl,  —  he  was  the  wild  dog  again, 
fierce  and  unsparing;  and  as  for  little  Jim, 
he  seemed  to  shrink  very  small,  the  dreamy 
look  of  contentment  would  go  out  of  his  face 
and  his  eyes  begin  to  roll  in  his  head  in  a 
manner  peculiar  to  him  when  frightened  or 
distressed. 

And  though  they  never  went  to  Partletts- 
ville, yet  it  seemed  that  Partlettsville  was 
ever  at  their  door.  Constantly  they  met  Gus 
Schaftsmire  on  the  road;  or  Louisa  Myers, 
driven  in  a  hired  wagon  to  look  after  her 
goods  at  the  Abbottsville  station;  or  even 
Mr.  Carruthers  himself,  striding  along,  pale, 
straight,  self-contained,  who  recognized  their 
presence  by  a  more  marked  rigidity  in  face 
and  form.  He  never  spoke  to  them  now 
unless  quite  face  to  face,  thereby  marking 
his  disapproval  of  the  old  woman  yet  more 
definitely  than  formerly. 


190  John  o'  Partletts' 

The  Witch  knew  well  that  since  that  Au- 
gust night  when  she  had  recovered  Jim  her 
name  was  more  execrated  in  Partlettsville 
than  ever  before.  And  though  she  despised 
the  Partlettsville  people,  and  looked  at  them 
with  defiance  and  hatred,  yet,  in  her  secret 
heart,  she  did  have  a  fear;  especially  as  to 
Jim!  The  sight  of  a  Partlettsville  wagon 
therefore  was  enough  to  set  her  muttering 
to  herself:  "  You'll  not  take  him  from  me! 
Never!  Never!  "  And  once  when  Gus 
Schaftsmire,  passing  her  on  the  road,  leaned 
out  of  his  wagon  and  looked  at  her  with  a 
loud,  meaning  laugh,  she  was  on  her  feet  in 
an  instant: 

' '  Oh,  you  mean  bully !  .Why  are  you  leer- 
ing at  me  with  such  a  malicious  look?  " 

"  Out  of  love,"  exclaimed  Gus,  tickled  al- 
most to  death.  "  Out  of  love  and  friendli- 
ness; ain't  we  neighbors?  " 

"No!  you're  no  neighbor  of  mine,  you 
thief  and  robber!  "  cried  the  WHch.  "  Get 
along  over  the  road,  or  I've  some  one  here 
who'll  make  you!  " 


The  Red  Brand  at  Partletts'       191 

Indeed  John  o'  Partletts'  had  already  ad- 
vanced from  his  post  at  the  rear,  and  was 
drawing  up  upon  Grus,  his  huge  head  lowered, 
and  thrust  forward  threateningly. 

Gus  needed  no  second  warning. 

"  An'  you  old  fiend,  you!  "  he  muttered, 
as  he  shot  by.  "  You'd  ought  to  have  your 
house  burned  over  your  head!  " 

It  was  these  words  —  perhaps  merely 
thrown  out  at  random  —  that  made  the  Witch 
absolutely  sure,  a  week  later,  that  an  attempt 
was  made  to  fire  her  house. 

The  Fall  had  waned,  Indian  Summer  come 
and  gone.  The  glory  of  color  that  had  made 
the  woods  gorgeous  lay  on  the  ground  in 
masses  of  fading  red  and  gold,  carpeting  the 
slope  of  Partletts'  from  brow  to  ocean. 

And  all  through  this  wood  of  Partletts '  the 
thick  underbrush  stood  bare  and  shivering, 
while  here  and  there  patches  of  dried  woods 
and  tall  grasses  rattled  their  brown  stalks 
mournfully. 

There  was  nothing  bright  in  the  landscape 


192  John  o'  Partletts' 

now  save  the  sunsets;  the  weather  had  been 
dry  and  windy  for  long,  and  the  sun  daily 
set  in  a  cloud-sea  of  red  and  gold. 

Every  afternoon  the  old  woman  came  to 
the  kitchen  door  and  watched  the  great  orb 
dropping  oceanward. 

On  one  memorable  afternoon  the  wind  blew 
high,  straight  up  from  the  ocean,  bending 
trees  and  underbrush  on  a  slant  toward  the 
top  of  the  hill  so  that  they  all  had  the  appear- 
ance of  striving  to  tear  from  their  roots  and 
reach  the  summit. 

As  the  Witch  opened  her  door  as  usual  and 
looked  out  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  wood  were 
rushing  toward  her.  It  was  a  beautiful  sight, 
the  tall  trees  bent  as  supple  as  saplings, 
never  for  an  instant  straightening,  so  con- 
stant-was the  gale,  and  the  sun  setting  red, 
while  a  film  of  purple  came  sweeping  along 
the  horizon,  fast  covering  its  face,  until  a 
soft  twilight  seemed  shed  over  the  bending 
wood. 

The  old  woman  called  to  Jim,  and  they 
both  stood,  holding  the  door  in  the  teeth  of 


The  Red  Brand  at  Partletts'       193 

the  wind,  while  they  peeped  through  at  the 
swaying  wood.  John  o'  Partletts',  having 
no  special  taste  for  beauties  of  the  landscape, 
lay  stretched  before  the  stove,  his  head  on 
his  paws,  his  little  eyes  as  usual  but  half 
closed,  showing  a  watchful  slit  beneath  each 
lid. 

Suddenly  a  startled  cry  filled  the  little 
room  and  rang  through  the  cottage.  And  the 
great  dog  was  on  his  feet  with  a  bound,  every 
hair  rising,  and  he  stood,  shivering,  for  the 
cry  was  repeated  in  the  voice  that  he  knew 
and  loved. 

It  was  the  Witch's  voice.  She  had  passed 
outside  of  the  door  in  order  to  see  the  better, 
and  now  she  stood,  her  breast  heaving,  her 
eyes  flashing,  pointing  down  the  hillside. 

For,  what  was  that  circling  down  there! 
Something  brighter  than  the  sunlight !  Some- 
thing that  seemed  at  first  glance  part  of  the 
whirling,  colored  leaves.  Now  it  seemed  to 
separate  itself  from  leaves  and  grasses  and 
leap  as  if  with  its  own  strength  through  the 
clear  air  toward  the  tree-tops ;  to  sink  again 


194  John  o'  Partletts' 

and  become  part  of  the  leaves  in  their  dance ; 
creeping  through  them,  and  onward,  advan- 
cing with  sudden  speed,  and  springing  high 
again. 

"  Fire!  "  cried  the  old  woman,  in  a  voice 
made  deep  by  terror.  "  The  underbrush  is 
on  fire!  " 

She  stood  still  a  moment,  gazing;  a  mo- 
ment in  which  all  the  reality  of  the  situation 
rushed  upon  her.  The  wind,  coming  straight 
up  the  hillside,  already  sent  the  stifling  smell 
of  smoke  into  her  face.  She  glanced  about 
her,  at  the  tall  weeds,  all  uncut,  about  her 
cottage.  Had  the  fire  come  on  the  opposite 
side  the  open  plot  of  her  garden  would  have 
protected  her,  but  it  was  rushing  up  at  the 
back,  where  the  weeds,  swayed  forward  by 
the  wind,  rubbed  against  the  very  boards  of 
her  house ! 

She  looked  again  toward  the  woods.  The 
trees,  still  full  of  sap,  had  not  caught,  —  it 
was  only  the  underbrush.  But  there  a  dead 
pine  stood;  all  around  it  was  a  smother  of 
smoke,  then  a  flame  leaped,  a  branch  caught, 


The  Red  Brand  at  Partletts'       195 

then  another,  and  another,  up,  up,  until  the 
whole  tall  tree  stood  against  the  sky,  its  out- 
lines lost  in  flame  and  smoke,  like  a  forest 
torch. 

In  that  pine  tree  she  seemed  to  see  the  fate 
of  her  cottage.  And  she  gave  a  cry  more  bit- 
ter and  terrified  than  the  first,  a  cry  in  which 
despair  was  mingled  with  dread.  For  in  that 
moment  she  seemed  to  see  herself  —  an  old 
woman  —  stripped  of  all  —  home,  posses- 
sions swallowed  in  that  pitiless,  onrushing 
destruction. 

But  not  without  a  struggle!  No,  let  the 
odds  be  ever  so  long,  this  was  a  woman  who 
was  born  to  strive,  to  do  battle,  to  face  an 
enemy,  be  it  man  or  fate ! 

In  a  desperate  emergency  she  could  appear 
almost  grand.  Her  old  hawk  face  became  set 
and  motionless,  only  her  lips  were  com- 
pressed, and  her  eyes  seemed  to  concentrate 
in  points  of  light. 

"  Jim,  child!  "  she  cried  out  suddenly, 
"you  must  help  me!  It's  you  and  me  — 
you  and  me  —  against  that!  " 


196  John  o'  Partletts' 

Poor  Jim  had  stood  cowering  against  the 
side  of  the  door,  hardly  understanding  as  yet 
the  meaning  of  the  menace  before  them.  The 
Witch,  as  she  spoke,  rushed  back  into  the 
cottage,  and  threw  the  door  open.  As  she  did 
so,  the  dog,  who  had  stood,  as  it  were,  on  the 
edge,  gave  a  bound.  Through  the  open  door 
he  saw  the  approaching  danger,  he  smelled 
the  heavy  smoke  and  he  threw  up  his  head 
with  a  long,  low  howl,  his  eyes  glowing  with 
defiance  and  excitement,  as  if,  by  the  very 
force  of  his  strength  and  fierceness,  he  would 
turn  its  course. 

But  no,  John  o'  Partletts',  this  was  not  a 
fight  that  you  could  enter  into !  It  was  a  fight 
that  required  human  intelligence,  wit,  reason. 
A  fight  for  the  old  woman,  and  the  little, 
meagre  child! 

Little  enough,  and  meagre  enough,  yes,  but 
obedient  and  trusting !  Therefore  he  did  not 
lose  his  head,  or  scream,  or  run  to  seek  safety 
for  himself.  Only,  when  the  old  woman,  run- 
ning from  the  house  again,  and  selecting  a 
spot  at  a  little  distance  from  the  cottage, 


The  Red  Brand  at  Partletts'       197 

stooped,  and  deliberately  set  fire  to  the 
weeds ;  only  then  did  he,  for  a  moment,  roll 
his  eyes  in  protesting  wonder,  and  cry  out : 

"  What  you  do,  Mis'  Beevish?  Yo'  da 
bring  him  nearer!  Yo'  da  bring  de  fire 
nearer!  " 

"  No,  child,  no!  "  she  cried.  "  I'm  fight- 
ing fire  with  fire!  It's  all  that's  left  for  us 
to  do !  Fire  with  fire !  "  she  repeated,  stand- 
ing up  and  looking  at  the  oncoming  welter 
of  smoke  as  if  it  were  a  sentient  enemy  and 
could  understand  the  defiance. 

Then  quickly,  quickly  must  they  set  fire  to 
the  weeds,  and  then  swiftly,  before  it  got 
beyond  their  control,  beat  it  out.  The  Witch 
with  a  great  shovel,  the  child  with  a  broom. 
Now  they  accomplished  a  narrow  semicircle 
of  charred  space  around  the  side  of  the  cot- 
tage, much  too  narrow  in  the  face  of  that 
leaping,  wind-driven  foe!  It  must  be  gone 
over  again  and  again  and  widened. 

They  widened  it,  the  child  panting  from  his 
exertions;  even  in  the  cold,  keen  wind  the 
sweat  running  down  his  forehead  into  his 


198  John  o'  Partletts' 

eyes.  The  woman's  cotton  dress,  which  twice 
the  fire  had  seized  and  been  beaten  out  of, 
hung  frayed  and  scorched;  her  hands  were 
burnt,  and,  worst  of  all,  she  feared  that  their 
efforts  would  prove  useless;  but  still  she 
struggled  on. 

' '  Work,  Jim !  ' '  she  screamed  to  the  strain- 
ing child,  rushing  to  the  far  end  of  the  semi- 
circle, to  go  its  length  yet  again.  And  Jim 
sprang  forward,  and,  as  she  fired  the  dry 
grass,  beat  the  bursting  flames  with  all  his 
fast  ebbing  strength.  And  all  this  while  the 
huge,  strong  dog,  helpless  to  assist,  but  filled 
with  a  great,  brute  sympathy,  ran  up  and 
down  the  length  of  their  poor  little  boundary, 
almost  in  the  fire,  singeing  his  hair,  scorch- 
ing his  paws,  and  sending  out  his  wild,  ex- 
cited bark  in  challenge  and  defiance. 

And  now  they  could  do  no  more,  for  the  fire 
was  upon  them.  Its  smoke  was  in  their  faces, 
its  roar  in  their  ears.  They  felt  its  hot 
breath,  and  drew  back  as  far  as  the  cottage. 

Their  burnt  space  is  too  narrow;  far  too 
narrow  to  arrest  that  rushing  enemy!  The 


The  Red  Brand  at  Partletts'       199 

Witch,  seeing  it,  turned  and  covered  her  face 
with  her  hand.  Jim  hid  his  eyes  in  his  arm, 
his  exhausted  little  body  shaking.  And  the 
great  dog  drew  back,  unwillingly,  step  by 
step,  with  a  fierce  dignity  baring  his  teeth. 

On  crept  the  fire  to  the  verge  of  the  semi- 
circle, and  the  cruel  flame  tongues  were  out- 
stretched. But  as  suddenly  as  it  had  come 
upon  them,  just  as  suddenly  it  veered.  A 
counter  current  of  air  had  brushed  it,  —  in 
that  instant  it  licked  up  the  last  tall  weeds 
along  the  semicircle,  languished,  drooped, 
had  not  the  strength  to  overleap  the  burnt 
space,  and  seemed  for  the  moment  all  but 
quenched.  But,  determined  not  to  die,  and 
fanned  now  by  another  sudden  rush  of  wind, 
it  swept  away  toward  the  left,  on  to  the  brow 
of  the  hill,  to  flame  there,  a  beacon  to  Part- 
lettsville  in  the  valley  below. 

The  menace  had  come  and  gone,  swift  in 
its  passage  as  only  fire  and  wind  may  be! 
The  last  rays  of  the  setting  sun  fell  upon 
the  little  cottage;  and  the  old  woman,  who, 
a  moment  before,  had  seen  her  home  threat- 


200  John  o'  Partletts' 

ened,  and  herself  destitute,  raised  her  head, 
exclaiming  in  a  trembling  voice  of  gratitude : 
"  0  — bountiful  God!  " 

That  night,  long  and  late,  the  old  woman 
sat  at  an  upper  window.  Shaken  to  the  soul, 
her  past  seemed  to  rise  within  her,  and  to 
pass  in  review  before  her,  as  a  man  when 
drowning  finds  his  whole  life  emerging  from 
his  subconsciousness  to  look  him  in  the  face. 
She  seemed  to  see  herself  in  the  years  before 
she  came  to  Partlettsville  —  with  a  great  for- 
tune, but  striving  ever,  and  ofttimes  with 
those  of  her  own  blood,  to  retain  her  rights 
and  possessions.  Striving  in  her  own  way, 
scorning  advice  and  ways  and  means  which 
often  seemed  to  her  sordid;  disdaining  law- 
yers, whom  she  distrusted;  depending  upon 
herself,  proud,  single-handed,  alone.  And 
she  seemed  to  feel  again  the  sense  of  passion- 
ate injustice  as  her  possessions  gradually 
slipped  from  her  into  the  hands  of  those 
shrewder  than  herself.  She  seemed  to  see 
herself  as  she  had  been  all  her  life,  striving 


The  Red  Brand  at  Partletts'       201 

against  many  of  the  powers  that  be,  as  by 
some  necessity  of  her  nature,  inveighing 
against  hypocrisy  and  all  narrow,  unsympa- 
thetic conventions  • —  scorning  so  much  that 
was  held  dear  by  her  own  class  —  until  that 
very  class  had  come  to  regard  her  not  only 
as  strange  and  eccentric  but  even  as  half 
mad.  Then,  as  an  old  woman,  broken  in  for- 
tune, but  not  in  spirit,  with  the  horror  of  that 
stigma  of  half-mad  upon  her,  she  had  turned 
her  back  upon  them,  determined  to  seek  in 
some  corner  of  the  world  a  community  of 
people,  simple,  plain,  human.  She  had  found 
Partletts',  where  the  Spirit  of  Truth  had 
spoken  to  her  soul,  promising  her  peace.  She 
had  bought  her  bit  of  land,  built  her  house, 
and  laid  out  her  garden.  And  during  this 
process  she  had  come  to  know  Partlettsville. 
For  her  it  had  been  a  bitter  knowledge  — 
perhaps  the  bitterest  of  her  life  —  for  she 
had  found  here  the  narrowness,  lack  of  sym- 
pathy, suspicion,  from  which  she  had  fled. 
Cruelty  and  scorn  she  had  found  here ! 
She  sat  for  a  long,  long  time,  gazing  with 


202  John  o'  Partletts' 

narrowed  eyes,  and  in  her  stern,  proud  old 
face  an  expression  of  bitterness  grew  and 
grew  until  it  seemed  to  pierce  the  darkness 
and  distance,  and  even  the  hill  itself,  to  the 
little  town  beyond.  From  there  she  believed 
had  come  the  danger  that  had  almost  over- 
powered her  to-day.  There,  she  told  herself, 
dwelt  enemies,  who  were  willing,  not  merely 
to  sport  with  her,  but  to  ruin  her ! 

Suddenly  she  brought  her  clenched  hand 
down  upon  the  window-ledge  with  a  gesture 
of  uncontrolled  violence,  giving  vent  to  her 
tumultuous  thoughts  and  feelings,  and  rose, 
looking  down  over  the  hillside,  her  face  white 
and  drawn  in  its  expression  of  anger,  resent- 
fulness,  and  lonely  grief.  At  her  feet  rose 
a  rasping  snarl  that  seemed  the  accompani- 
ment of  her  sudden  movement,  and  in  an 
inner  room,  a  fevered  child  turned  on  his  bed 
with  a  moan,  as  if,  in  his  sleep,  he  had  seen 
a  dark  and  threatening  vision. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

CLERICAL   AND   OTHERWISE 

IT  was  in  no  conciliating  frame  of  mind 
that  the  Witch  opened  her  door  to  Mr.  Car- 
ruthers  a  short  while  after  the  above  event. 
Her  heart  was  sore,  and  her  mind  full  of  such 
bitter  suspicions  that  every  one  who  came 
from  Partlettsville  was,  in  some  degree,  con- 
nected with  them.  As  he  entered  the  cottage 
she  gave  him  such  a  strangely  meaning  glance 
that  he  lost  no  time  in  opening  his  subject. 
It  concerned  the  guardianship  of  Jim,  which 
he  proposed  undertaking  himself.  And  she, 
on  her  part,  losing  no  time,  instantly  declared 
with  vehemence  that  she  would  sooner  see 
the  child  dead  than  placed  in  the  care  of  the 
man  before  her. 

"  Madam,"  expostulated  the  minister,  lay- 
ing his  hand  upon  the  table,  ' '  let  me  advise 
you  to  use  more  temperate  language!  You 

203 


204  John  o'  Partletts' 

have  —  and  you  know  it  —  no  power  to  re- 
tain this  child.    I  have  —  or  shall  soon  have 

—  absolute  power  to  take  him  from  you.    Be- 
sides this,  I  must  advise  you  to  generally  con- 
duct yourself  with  less  animosity  toward  the 
people  of  my  parish.    You  have  already  an- 
tagonized them  by  your  conduct,  and  I  warn 
you  that  you  may  drive  them  to  take  an 
action    against    you,    that    will    cause    you 
pain —  " 

The  old  woman  started  violently. 

"  Ah!  "  she  cried  suddenly.  "  They  have 
already  done  me  an  injury!  I  believe  you 
know  it  well,  Henry  Carruthers!  "  she  went 
on,  her  face  contracting  with  the  emotion 
that  took  possession  of  her.  "  You  are  all 

—  down   there   would-be   murderers!     You 
would  have  burned  me  alive  in  my  house  - 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  are  speaking  of," 
he  interrupted  resolutely.  "  I  am  speaking 
of  the  future,  not  the  past." 

But  she  went  on,  unheeding. 

"  Did  you  imagine  that  I  could  be  de- 
ceived! "  She  whirled  round,  and  pointed 


Clerical  and  Otherwise  205 

with  a  trembling  hand  down  the  hill.  ' '  The 
fire  on  the  side  that  would  do  me  the  most 
harm!  The  wind  raging  straight  up  I 
Oh  — !  "  she  laughed  violently.  * '  Henry 
Carruthers !  ' '  she  exclaimed,  striking  her 
hand  down  upon  the  table  so  vehemently, 
and  so  near  his  own,  that  he  involuntarily 
started.  "  When  that  fire  was  set  last  week, 
to  burn  an  old  woman  out  of  her  home  —  to 
make  her  lose  everything  she  possessed  — 
an  old,  friendless  woman,  who  never  comes 
into  your  church,  so  why  consider  her?  You 
were  sitting  in  your  study,  preparing  your 
sermon  for  Sunday,  no  doubt !  For  you  are 
one  of  those  always  found  in  the  right  place 
at  the  right  time !  But  was  there  not  a  smile 
on  your  face?  A  smile,  Henry  Carruthers  f 
Yes  —  you  knew  what  was  going  forward, 
you  knew!  " 

The  tall  man  drew  himself  up.  He  looked 
at  the  shaking,  excited  old  woman  with  a 
scorn  he  could  not  repress.  Exhibitions  of 
uncontrolled  feeling  were  extremely  repug- 
nant to  him. 


206  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  And  do  you  imagine  that  I  would  stoop 
to  any  act  of  malevolence?  "  he  asked  in  his 
coldest  tone.  "I,  or  any  of  my  parishion- 
ers? " 

She  interrupted  him  with  a  sudden  laugh. 

*  *  And  it  is  just  what  your  parishioners  — 
some  of  them  —  would  do !  Any  act  of  mean- 
ness or  cowardice!  It  is  you  who  do  not 
understand  them!  "  she  added,  and  she 
leaned  forward  and  looked  him  in  the  face. 
* '  With  all  your  known  merits,  all  your  great 
self-esteem,  you  cannot  imagine  yourself  to 
be  a  reader  of  men;  an  interpreter  of  the 
souls  about  you !  You  have  not  the  sympathy 
or  the  ability  to  interpret  human  beings 
truly!  "  she  added  with  steady  conviction, 
her  voice  for  the  moment  losing  its  emotional 
ring  and  becoming  calm  and  judicial. 

It  seemed  that  she  had  struck  him  upon 
a  sore  spot.  Perhaps  the  man  had,  himself, 
at  some  time,  felt  the  latent  truth  of  what 
she  spoke.  At  any  rate,  the  anger  that,  for 
the  moment,  faded  from  her  face  seemed 
to  flash  into  his. 


Clerical  and  Otherwise  207 

4  *  I  have  sufficient  understanding  of  human 
nature  for  my  purposes,  and  for  the  purposes 
of  those  about  me,"  he  answered  with  proud 
conciseness. 

She  drew  a  step  nearer,  looking  in  his  face. 

"  And  do  you  believe  it  possible  to  suffi- 
ciently understand  human  nature,  which  is 
so  strange,  so  complicated?  "  she  asked,  with 
a  gravity  that  was  almost  sadness. 

He  looked  at  her,  and  struck  by  the  intent 
and  earnest  expression  of  her  face,  might 
perhaps  have  made  her  some  propitiating  an- 
swer. But,  even  as  he  looked,  the  harsh, 
defiant  light  reappeared  in  her  eyes,  and  with 
sarcastic  bitterness  she  resumed: 

"  But,  I  know,  to  a  gentleman  of  your 
stamp,  criticism  of  any  kind  is  unaccept- 
able! " 

He  raised  his  head  in  response  to  her 
words. 

"  I  did  not  come  here  to  argue,"  he  replied 
coldly;  "  I  came  to  take  the  boy  away;  but, 
as  I  see  it  would  be  impossible  to  do  so  with- 
out violence,  I  shall  leave  the  affair  until  it 


208  John  o'  Partletts' 

can  be  taken  in  hand  in  a  more  dignified  man- 
ner.   And  I  hope  that  will  be  soon." 

"  You  mean  — !  "  she  exclaimed,  her  face 
turning  very  white,  and  her  words  catching 
a  little  in  her  throat,  "  you  mean  to  take 
some  show  of  legal  authority?  ' 

"  I  mean  the  matter  to  be  decided  imper- 
sonally," he  replied;    "  not  on  the  ground 
on  which  you  are  determined  to  put  it, — 
merely  as  if  it  were  a  fight  between  you  and 
me." 

'  *  Listen  to  me !  "  cried  out  the  old  woman 
suddenly.  *  *  Send  no  one  here  for  him !  — 
for,  if  you  do,  he  will  wish  he  had  never 
come !  I'll  have  no  care  for  what  happens !  " 
she  went  on  threateningly,  losing  all  her 
calmness  of  a  moment  before.  "  I'll  never 
let  this  child  go  back  to  you!  And  he'll  die 
if  he  does !  It  will  kill  him !  He  can't  stand 
your  treatment  down  there.  How  did  I  find 
him  ?  How  pitiful  only  I  know !  Sick,  half- 
starved,  tormented !  —  and  he  had  been 
beaten  that  morning  by  you,  Henry  Carru- 
thers!  "  The  minister  made  a  quick,  impa- 


Clerical  and  Otherwise  209 

tient  movement.  He  regarded  her  statements 
as  gross  exaggerations.  She  held  her  breath 
with  a  half -sob  before  she  went  on.  "  And 
I  can  tell  you  how  unjustly  I  "  she  added, 
catching  his  arm,  as  he  was  about  moving 
away;  and  rapidly  she  poured  a  tale  into 
his  ear,  in  which  .Willie  Merryweather's 
name  figured  frequently.  He  listened,  more 
than  half  incredulous,  but  with  an  arrested 
attention. 

When  she  had  finished,  with  a  nervous 
violence  she  put  out  her  hand  and  pushed 
him  from  her. 

"  There,"  she  exclaimed,  "  go  back  to 
your  own  kind!*  I  tell  you  what  they  are, 
but,  such  as  they  are,  you  love  them!  " 

And  as  he  strode  off  swiftly  down  the  hill 
she  stood  in  her  doorway  following  his  prog- 
ress with  narrowed  eyes  in  which  irrepressi- 
ble dread  and  grim  determination  struggled. 

"  The  law!  "  she  muttered.  "  The  law! 
So  you  would  bring  legal  authority  even 
here,  would  you?  —  to  take  him  from 
me!  " 


210  John  o'  Partletts' 

Though  Mr.  Carruthers  was  always  skep- 
tical as  to  any  information  received  through 
such  a  medium  as  the  Witch,  yet  she  had 
spoken  with  sufficient  detail  of  Willie  Merry- 
weather  for  him  to  feel  it  incumbent  on  him 
to  approach  Kitty  on  the  subject  of  her  son's 
possible  misbehavior. 

Kitty,  outraged  to  the  last  degree,  unhes- 
itatingly informed  him  that  the  Witch  owed 
her  an  imagined  grudge  and  "  took  it  hout 
in  any  form  of  spite  that  came  handy!  " 
And  Willie,  called  to  assist  in  his  own  de- 
fence, ably  seconded  his  mother,  was  humil- 
ity itself,  whined,  and  in  the  extremity  of  his 
injured  feelings,  even  shed  tears,  declaring 
in  the  most  pronounced  manner  that  he 
"  never  had  done  no  thin'  to  nobody!  "  and 
"  didn't  understand  what  nobody  meant!  " 

Mr.  Carruthers,  utterly  unable  to  clear  up 
the  matter,  went  away  with  mingled  feelings 
of  annoyance  and  confusion.  A  lie  was  such 
a  hideous  thing  to  his  very  upright  nature 
that  the  mere  suspicion  of  one  threw  him 
into  a  sort  of  mental  disorder;  and  to  be- 


Clerical  and  Otherwise  211 

lieve  Willie  Merryweather  capable  of  bare- 
faced falsehood  seemed,  in  a  way,  to  belie 
his  own  teaching,  influence  and  judgment, 
for  personally  he  had  rather  a  liking  for  the 
boy.  Nor  was  this  so  very  strange,  because 
the  Willie  whom  he  knew  was  very  different 
indeed  from  the  Willie  with  whom  little  Jim 
was  intimately  acquainted. 

Accordingly  he  dismissed  the  matter  from 
his  mind  with  the  feeling  that  the  Witch  had 
been  playing  upon  her  imagination,  and  that 
all  she  said  was  on  a  par  with  her  mad  hal- 
lucination that  he,  Henry  Carruthers,  was 
implicated  in  a  plot  to  burn  down  her 
house. 

With  his  usual  long  strides  he  made  his 
way  back  to  the  rectory.  But  had  any  one 
watched  him  narrowly  it  might  have  been 
seen  that  his  step  was  a  little  less  vigorous 
than  it  had  once  been,  and  that  he  looked 
down  more  often,  as  if  he  were  studying  the 
ground  beneath  his  feet.  The  dark  hair 
upon  his  temples  had  become  during  the  last 
months  sprinkled  with  grey,  and,  though  he 


212  John  o'  Partletts' 

was  scarcely  forty,  he  had  the  appearance  of 
a  man  ten  years  older. 

In  truth  he  was  a  very  desolate  and  lonely 
man.  That  void  which  had  opened  within 
him  and  all  about  him,  on  that  morning  when 
his  wife  died,  was  as  wide  and  deep  as  then. 
There  seemed  nothing  in  the  world  that  could 
fill  it,  or  assuage  the  ache  of  it.  Life  seemed 
empty.  Only  the  word  Duty  was  as  plainly 
before  his  eyes  as  ever.  On  that  one  word, 
that  one  thought,  he  fastened  his  whole  atten- 
tion. Each  day  he  grew  stricter  and  sterner, 
both  with  himself  and  others;  more  concise 
and  formal  in  every  action;  more  sparing 
even  of  his  words. 

There  was  no  gentle  voice  now  to  remind 
him  that  it  is  a  world  in  which  nature  blooms 
and  often  shows  a  smiling  face;  that  life  is 
not  all  harsh,  but  full  of  beauty  and  love, 
too ;  and  that  skies,  though  they  are  stormy, 
can  also  be  star-lit. 

And  being  naturally  of  a  very  serious  and 
grave  nature,  he  forgot  these  things. 

He   never   gave  himself  any   recreation; 


Clerical  and  Otherwise  213 

he  never  laughed.  And  now  gradually  rec- 
reation and  laughter  had  come  to  seem  to 
him  unnecessary  and  discordant. 

His  children  had  learned  that  if  they 
romped  his  study  door  would  open  and  a 
stern  voice  ask:  "  What  noise  is  that?  "  It 
is  true,  they  seldom  enough  romped.  And 
when  old  Elsa,  early  in  the  Spring,  had  been 
found  by  him  planting  out  some  of  his  little 
lady's  geraniums,  she  had  been  reproved. 

"  You  complain  that  you  are  pressed  for 
time,"  he  had  said,  tersely;  "  leave  the 
flowers  then." 

Perhaps  it  had  pained  him  to  see  the  flow- 
ers that  his  wife  had  loved,  planted  by  an- 
other. At  any  rate,  not  a  flower  bloomed 
about  the  rectory  that  Summer;  it  was  a 
bare  spot.  "  Desolate  enough  for  the  bairns, 
poor  hearts!  "  complained  Elsa. 

And  now  the  bairns,  looking  out  of  the 
kitchen  window,  dropped  back  hastily. 

"  Father's  coming!  "  was  whispered. 

Only  little  Margy  kept  her  place.  Less 
afraid  of  the  stern  man  than  they,  she  even 


214  John  o'  Partletts' 

peeped  at  him  archly  as  he  came  up  the 
flagged  walk.  But,  catching  his  eye,  and 
alarmed  at  her  own  boldness,  she  jumped 
down,  too,  and  ran  to  hide  her  face  in  Elsa's 
apron,  who,  stopping  in  her  work,  and  put- 
ting her  hand  on  the  shining  head,  asked : 

"  What's  the  matter  now?  " 

* '  He  saw  me !  "  whispered  a  smothered 
little  voice.  * '  Father  saw  me !  " 

11  Saw  you?  "  exclaimed  the  old  woman 
sharply.  "  An'  what  if  he  did,  dearie? 
Who's  a  hetter  right  to  look  in  a  man's 
face  than  his  own  childer,  eh?  Tell  me 
that!" 

And  she  glanced  toward  the  hall,  whence 
came  the  sound  of  a  closing  door,  as  if  she 
would  have  liked  to  ask  that  question  of  some 
one  other  than  Margy. 

And  as  the  grave  man  caught  a  glimpse  of 
the  little,  vanishing  head  he  came  into  his 
house  with  a  heavier  step;  for  it  recalled 
all  too  vividly  one  whose  hair  had  been  of 
a  like  color,  of  the  tender,  haunting  bright- 
ness of  spring  daffodils. 


Clerical  and  Otherwise  215 

But  who  shall  express  the  rage  and  indig- 
nation meanwhile  reigning  in  the  house  of 
Merryweather !  Had  Willie  been  an  abused 
archangel  he  could  not  have  received  more 
sympathy  or  glorification.  And  Maggie,  out 
of  her  honest  soul,  having  protested:  "  But 
he  did,  you  know  —  he  did  treat  the  nigger 
bad!  "  was  soundly  boxed  and  pushed  into 
a  corner  for  being  "  an  unloyal  hussy." 
And  Kitty,  late  that  evening,  when  she  was 
closing  her  shutters,  turned  her  sharp,  keen 
face  toward  Partletts',  sleeping  peacefully 
beneath  the  starlight,  declaring  her  deep- 
rooted  intention  to  "  Git  even  with  that 
crazy  old  loon  yet!  I'll  do  it!  "  she  added, 
"  even  if  it  costs  me  somethin'!  " 

And  for  Kitty  —  that  was  an  ominous 
threat  indeed ! 


CHAPTER   XVHI 

DEACON    SAWBEY   EXPLAINS 

IP  Kitty  Merryweather  's  temper  was  bla- 
zing against  the  Witch,  there  were  others  as 
hot. 

It  had  been  generally  believed  that  she 
would  weary  of  her  guardianship  of  the  hill, 
and  that,  as  time  went  on,  she  and  John 
o '  Partletts '  would  be  less  belligerent.  They 
should  have  known  her  better. 

Feeling  as  she  did  —  whether  rightly  or 
wrongly  —  that  those  below  had  attempted 
to  do  her  the  bitter  injury  of  burning  her 
house,  the  Witch's  long  cherished  dislike  of 
them  was  fanned  to  an  intensity  of  suspicion 
and  fear  that  scarcely  knew  bounds.  She 
now  believed  them  capable  of  anything.  In 
fact  they  stood  as  convicted  in  her  eyes.  The 
act  she  believed  they  had  meditated  revealed 
to  her  imagination  a  very  blackness  of  soul 
216 


Deacon  Sawrey  Explains  217 

which  made  her  both  shudder  and  rage.  She 
massed  all  Partlettsville  in  her  suspicions; 
and,  whereas  formerly  she  had  endeavored  to 
avoid  her  enemies  down  there,  now  she 
thought  and  brooded  over  them  continually. 
The  outcome  was  that  she  could  no  longer 
keep  away  from  them.  Drawn  by  the  absorb- 
ing wish  to  make  her  displeasure  and  pres- 
ence felt,  she  gave  up  her  former  wise  course 
of  never  going  near  them,  and  again  the  old 
horse  and  strange  trio  were  to  be  seen  trail- 
ing through  the  main  street  of  Partlettsville, 
mocked  at  and  mocking. 

And  more  than  once  the  Witch,  provoked 
by  taunts,  had  stood  up  and  delivered  a 
tirade,  and,  on  these  occasions,  she  appeared 
more  crazy  to  those  about  her  than  ever 
before.  More  than  likely  it  was  only  the 
presence  of  John  o'  Partletts'  that  saved  her 
from  injury  of  some  kind.  All  feared  the 
great  dog,  not  only  for  his  ferocity  but  for 
his  sharpness  and  alertness;  had  any  been 
bold  enough  to  throw  a  missile  he  would 
unerringly  have  singled  out  the  offender. 


218  John  o'  Partletts' 

There  were  some  who  regarded  this  as 
very  good  sport,  but  many  of  the  dwellers 
in  Partlettsville  considered  it  a  great  scan- 
dal, and  a  most  unnecessary  disturbance. 
Mrs.  Sawrey,  who  had  already  suffered  such 
a  painful  fright,  could  never  endure  to  see 
the  equipage  of  the  Witch,  and  declared  that 
she  was  almost  afraid  to  live  in  the  vicinity 
of  such  a  crazy-looking  person.  And  it  was 
the  opinion  of  all  that,  whether  crazy  or  sane, 
the  old  woman  was  a  most  undesirable  neigh- 
bor. 

"  Something  ought  to  be  done,"  was  re- 
marked each  time  that  the  Witch  made  one 
of  her  appearances. 

1 '  And  something  shall  be  done !  ' '  said 
Deacon  Sawrey  mysteriously.  "  I  do  not 
intend  that  my  wife  shall  be  annoyed  and 
frightened  in  a  peaceful  community  —  so 
called!  "  he  added  with  sarcasm. 

Now,  any  disturbance  of  the  peace  was  as 
painful  to  little  Jim  as  to  the  most  conserva- 
tive Partlettsvillite.  He  loved  the  quiet  of 


Deacon  Sawrey  Explains  219 

the  hill  of  Partletts ',  the  routine  of  life  there, 
alone  with  the  old  woman  and  the  dog.  He 
hated  in  proportion  those  trips  into  the  town, 
and  feared  the  unfriendly  faces  he  saw  there. 
He  often  tried  by  little  ruses  to  keep  the  old 
woman  at  home. 

"  Mis'  Beevish,"  he  would  exclaim,  "  'e 
gwine  rain !  Best  not  resk  gwine  so  fur !  ' ' 

And  if  the  weather  was  so  bright  that  rain 
could  not  possibly  be  predicted,  Jim  would 
still  look  skyward  dubiously,  sniff  and  say: 

"Yes,  de  sun  shine  fV  sure!  but  'e  do 
smell  like  rain !  ' ' 

And  there  was  one  thing  that  could  always 
keep  the  old  woman  at  home,  and,  moreover, 
seemed,  for  the  time,  to  smooth  out  all  pas- 
sion and  restlessness  from  her  mind;  this 
was  interest  in  her  garden.  If  Jim  could 
once  get  her  to  planning  a  new  bed  for  the 
Spring,  or  to  talking  of  the  names  and  hab- 
its of  her  various  plants,  a  period  of  quiet 
home-abiding  was  sure  to  follow.  Therefore 
when  Jim  saw,  by  her  flashing  eyes,  and 
by  a  frequent  and  nervous  straightening  of 


220  John  o'  Partletts' 

her  red  headdress,  that  she  was  meditating 
overmuch  upon  her  enemies,  he  would  pick 
a  handful  of  seed,  —  salvia,  zinnia,  or  what- 
ever came  to  hand  —  and  adroitly  begin  on 
some  such  strain  as  this: 

"  Lor,  Mis'  Beevish,  dere's  mo'  seed  on 
dem  dried  up  ole  bushes  dan  yo'  kin  shake 
a  stick  at!  Ain't  we  goin'  to  have  no  mo' 
o'  dese  kind  o'  flowers  nex'  year  —  long  ea 
we  is  got  sech  a  sight  o'  seed  fo'  plantin'?  " 

And  the  old  woman's  eyes  would  cease  to 
flash,  she  would  grow  calmer,  and  finally 
hold  out  her  hand. 

"  Let  me  see,  child  —  what  seed  is  that?  " 

"  "Tis  de  seed  of  a  plant  what  in  de  Souf 
dey  calls  '  01'  Maid,'  an'  besides,  I  hears 
some  people  call  it  *  OP  Age  an'  Youf !  '  " 

"  No,  no!  "  she  would  reply,  examining 
the  seed  with  sharp  eyes.  "  That  plant, 
child,  belongs  to  the  genus  helianthoideae, 
and  it  is  named  zinnia  after  Dr.  Zinn,  a 
famous  German  professor,  child,  who  spent 
his  whole  life  studying  plants  and  flowers. 
And  that —  "  taking  the  little  black  seeds  cf 


Deacon  Sawrey  'Explains 


the  salvia  into  her  hand,  and  turning  them 
about  lovingly  "  —  is  the  salvia  splendens, 
—  it  has  been  cultivated  from  the  common, 
garden  sage.  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  how  many 
varieties  there  are,  but  it  belongs  to  the 
momardeae  family!  "  And  so  on.  All  of 
which  little  Jim  understood  about  as  well  as 
if  she  had  elected  to  talk  Greek.  What  he 
did  understand,  however,  was  the  softened 
look  of  absorbed  interest,  and  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  flashing  anger  and  restlessness. 

Then  the  talk  would  drift  on  to  the  ar- 
rangement of  some  new  flower-bed  —  if  it 
should  be  crescent  or  heart-shaped;  and 
finally  the  old  woman  would  draw  designs 
on  a  paper,  while  Jim  made  suggestions,  and 
John  o'  Partletts'  sat  listening. 

The  afternoon  would  drift  by;  danger  of 
mischief  and  the  arousing  of  evil  passions 
be  averted;  and  thus  the  violent  old  woman, 
who  scorned  all  advice,  and  whose  heart  was 
filled  with  bitterness  and  suspicions,  lent 
herself,  all  unwittingly,  to  the  direction  of 
the  child.  For  a  sort  of  wisdom  is  some- 


222  John  o'  Partletts' 

times  given  into  the  hands  of  the  very  sim- 
ple, unregarded  and  lowly,  and,  it  is  written : 
"  A  little  child  shall  lead  them!  " 

As  the  Fall  drew  to  a  close,  and  the  high 
chill  winds  of  early  Winter  began  to  sweep 
over  the  little  town,  there  were  others  than 
Michaelson  who  looked  up  covetously  at  the 
tall  trees  upon  the  side  of  Partletts'.  Many 
figured  out  the  amount  of  wood  in  this  clump, 
the  amount  of  profit  to  be  made  from  that, 
until,  emboldened  by  these  calculations,  at- 
tempts were  made  from  time  to  time,  but 
always  with  the  same  result  —  failure. 

At  length  Gus  Schaftsmire,  determining  to 
show  all  Partlettsville  that  he  was  the  man 
to  get  the  better  of  "  that  there  pair,"  put 
a  pistol  in  his  pocket,  threw  caution  to  the 
winds,  and  taking  one  of  his  father's  horses 
to  haul  the  wood  back,  went  one  night  to  hew 
down  a  tree. 

"Wonderful  to  relate,  he  accomplished  his 
purpose  uninterrupted.  But  just  as  he  had 
loaded  the  wood  on  his  drag,  his  horse,  fright- 


Deacon  Sawrey  Explains  223 

ened  by  the  flashing  of  the  lantern,  broke 
away  and  dashed  through  the  underbrush 
toward  the  Witch's  cottage.  Gus,  not  daring 
to  risk  the  loss  of  the  animal,  and  embold- 
ened by  the  feel  of  the  loaded  pistol,  made 
after. 

He  caught  his  horse,  and  something  beside. 

Within  the  house  the  great  dog,  hearing 
the  rush  past  the  cottage,  sprang  up,  his 
fore  paws  on  the  window-sill,  and,  seeing  the 
intruder,  unhesitatingly  crashed  through  the 
pane  and  with  a  wild  bound,  and  a  scatter 
of  falling  glass,  gave  chase. 

There  was  the  report  of  a  pistol,  a  terrible 
roar  and  snarl,  before  the  Witch  reached  the 
scene.  She  saw  her  dog's  head  spattered 
with  blood  from  his  cuts,  but  supposing  this 
to  come  from  a  shot  wound,  and  fearing  Gus 
would  kill  him,  she  rushed  forward,  caught 
hold  of  him,  and  prevented  him  from  making 
a  second  attack. 

Seeing  Gus  in  her  garden  in  the  dead  of 
night,  her  ready  imagination  led  her  to  be- 
lieve his  presence  boded  some  direful  dis- 


224 


aster,  and  she  lost  no  time  in  informing  him 
of  her  suspicions. 

' '  I  come  to  git  my  horse !  ' '  shouted  Gus, 
holding  on  to  his  leg  with  a  white  face. 
"  An'  I'm  bit!  " 

"  Take  your  horse  and  go  then!  "  she 
screamed  back.  "  Look,  you  have  hurt  my 
friend  here,  you  sneaking  villain  —  ' ' 

"  An'  a  fine  friend!  "  interrupted  Gus, 
too  much  enraged  to  be  prudent.  "  Look  at 
him !  Look  at  your  friend!  ' 

The  Witch  looked  down  at  the  great  bloody 
head  and  savage  face,  which  wore  a  hideous 
grin  in  the  presence  of  his  enemy,  —  at  the 
huge  beast,  trembling  with  anger,  but  obedi- 
ent to  her  restraining  hand.  Perhaps  at  this 
moment  she  remembered  another  time  when 
she  had  seen  that  head  all  bloody.  At  any 
rate  her  face  suddenly  grew  white;  an  ex- 
pression of  violent  emotion  passed  over  it. 

"  He's  what  you've  made  him!  "  she  cried. 
"  You  down  there!  You  point  to  him  as  if 
he  were  the  fiend  incarnate;  but  did  any  of 
you  ever  do  an  act,  even  the  slightest,  of 


Deacon  Sawrey  Explains  225 

kindness  to  him?  Why  should  he  love  you, 
eh?  You  would  have  let  him  starve  —  you, 
in  your  comfortable  homes,  with  plenty  to 
eat  and  drink!  Did  any  of  you  remember 
that  the  same  hand  that  made  you,  made 
him,  and  give  him  so  much  as  a  crust  of 
bread?  No!  for  if  you  had  he  would  have 
remembered  it!  That  dog — "  pointing  to 
the  big,  fierce  head  —  *  *  remembers  kindness 
just  as  well  as  injuries!  And,  I  warn  you, 
be  careful  what  you  say  before  him.  He 
listens  to  you  and  understands!  " 

"  Yes!  "  leered  Gus.  "  An'  you  an'  he 
understand  each  other,  don't  you?  Yes, 
you're  a  pair  of  you!  "  and  he  nodded  his 
jhead  mysteriously,  as  if  he  could  explain 
that  phenomenon  if  he  would. 

"  And  I  understand  you!  "  cried  out  the 
old  woman  suddenly.  "I'm  uncanny!  I've 
bewitched  this  dog  —  we're  in  league  with 
evil !  Oh,  I  know  what  you  say,  down  there, 
you  poor,  ignorant  creatures !  ' '  she  went  on 
vehemently.  "  It  was  people  like  you  who, 
in  old  times,  burned  the  witches!  " 


226  John  o'  Partletts' 

"  Yes,"  roared  Gus  with  conviction,  as  if 
she  had  made  an  uncommonly  fine  point 
there ;  '  *  and  a  good  thing,  too !  ' ' 

"  Let  me  tell  you,"  she  exclaimed  in  a 
softer  voice,  for  once  unheeding  his  taunt, 
' '  the  witchery  I  have  used  —  it  is  kindness ! 
Did  you  ever  think  of  that?  And  let  me  tell 
you  something  else  —  something  that  min- 
ister of  yours  perhaps  has  never  told  you, 
with  all  his  precepts  and  preachings!  Re- 
member that  when  you  ill-treat  any  creature, 
be  it  ever  so  humble  or  despised,  you  do,  not 
only  it,  but  yourself,  an  injury!  Do  you 
know  why?  Because,"  she  cried,  with  sud- 
den emphatic  earnestness,  raising  her  face, 
and  pointing  upward  to  the  star-lit  sky, 
11  you  put  yourself  out  of  harmony  with  this 
great  universe,  and  out  of  touch  with  the 
will  of  your  Creator,  who  made  all  things!  '! 

She  stood  with  her  form  drawn  up  and  her 
arm  still  raised,  looking  large  in  the  dark- 
ness of  the  night,  like  a  heaven-pointing 
statue  of  a  woman. 

And     Gus,     with     unwonted     quietness, 


Deacon  Sawrey  Explains  227 

mounted  his  horse,  and  when  he  had  ridden 
away,  turned  and  saw  her  still  standing,  with 
the  great,  fierce  dog's  head  under  her  hand, 
as  if  she  were,  in  some  struggling  way  of  her 
own,  striving  to  communicate  with  the  spirit 
of  that  universe  —  with  the  will  of  her  Crea- 
tor. 

It  was  not  until  he  was  half-way  down  the 
hill,  and  Partlettsville  again  in  sight,  that 
he  recovered  his  ease  and  self-possession 
sufficiently  to  mutter  something  about  the 
"  preachifyin'  old  lunatic!  " 

The  day  but  one  after  this,  Deacon  Saw- 
rey, seated  comfortably  in  his  parlor,  sur- 
rounded by  many  treasures  of  the  upholster- 
er's  art  in  green  and  blue,  and  with  the  sun- 
shine flickering  discreetly  over  the  carpet 
pattern  through  closed  shutters  and  lace  cur- 
tains, leaned  back  in  his  chair,  and  rattling 
the  money  in  his  pockets  as  an  expression  of 
his  satisfaction,  informed  his  wife  that  a 
matter  he  had  lately  much  upon  his  mind, 
and  given  his  earnest  attention  to,  was  quite 


228  John  o'  Partletts' 

clearing  up,  that  is  to  say  clarifying  itself, 
and,  in  short,  coming  to  a  successful  con- 
clusion. 

Mrs.  Sawrey  hoped  sincerely  that  it  was 
a  successful  money  transaction,  but  she  was 
scarcely  less  pleased  when  the  deacon  ex- 
plained to  her  the  matter  in  hand. 

As  he  had  been  born  in  Partlettsville  he 
knew  as  much  about  the  property  there- 
abouts as  any  one.  He  had  always  under- 
stood that  the  estate  to  which  the  hill  of  Part- 
letts' belonged  could  not  be  sold  as  it  was  to 
be  held  in  trust  for  a  length  of  time  which 
had  not  yet  expired.  Therefore,  the  agent 
who  had  sold  the  old  woman  her  land  had 
done  it  on  his  own  responsibility,  without 
due  regard  to  exact,  legal  conditions  —  and 
therefore  —  and  so  on  —  and  much  more 
which  was  not  exactly  clear  to  Mrs.  Sawrey 's 
mind.  What  was  clear,  however,  was  that 
her  husband  had  patiently  and  persistently, 
during  three  months,  hunted  out  and  com- 
municated with  the  really  responsible  par- 
ties, whose  interest  he  had  aroused,  partly 


Deacon  Sawrey  Explains  229 

through  the  weight  of  his  own  importance, 
and  partly  by  representing  in  a  vivid  man- 
ner the  awkward  situation  of  Partlettsville 
in  having  a  crazy  and  absolutely  dangerous 
person  in  such  close  propinquity.  And,  with 
many  flourishes  of  rhetoric,  and  many  hints 
as  to  the  ableness  and  cleverness  with  which 
he  had  conducted  the  affair,  Mr.  Sawrey  at 
length  gave  his  wife  to  understand  that  mat- 
ters were  so  put  in  motion  that  all  that  was 
now  necessary  was  the  signature  of  a  num- 
ber of  persons  in  Partlettsville  to  a  paper 
containing  a  report  of  what  he  had  set  forth. 
Which  paper  was  to  be  sent  abroad  to  certain 
of  the  owners  of  Partletts',  then  travelling 
in  Europe,  who,  after  perusal,  would  undoubt- 
edly put  their  signatures  to  another  paper, 
which  in  time  being  returned  to  this  country, 
would  enable  the  owners  on  this  side  of  the 
water  to  turn  a  little  legal  machinery  which 
would  eventuate  in  turning  the  old  woman 
out  of  her  property  and  freeing  Partletts- 
ville, be  it  hoped,  of  her  presence  forever. 
Having  delivered  himself  of  these  facts, 


230  John  o'  Partletts' 

Deacon  Sawrey,  with  one  last,  triumphant 
jingle,  took  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets,  and 
standing  up,  shook  out  his  trouser  legs,  look- 
ing down  upon  them  with  an  expression  of 
critical  satisfaction. 

11  And  so,  my  dear,  by  Spring  I  shall  see 
that  something  radical  is  accomplished.  In 
the  meantime  if  it  should  come  to  the  old 
woman's  ears  it  might  cause  her  to  behave 
less  offensively  than  formerly,"  he  concluded 
with  a  smile  which  seemed  to  say  that  he  had 
already  spent  too  much  of  his  valuable  time 
upon  such  a  trivial  affair. 

It  chanced  that  on  this  same  afternoon,  at 
this  very  hour,  the  Witch  and  Jim  were 
seated  in  the  kitchen,  with  the  big  dog  at 
their  feet,  earnestly  discussing  and  absorbed 
in  the  most  elaborate  plans  for  the  beauti- 
fying of  the  little  place.  There  was  to  be 
a  new  star-shaped  bed  of  red  and  white  ver- 
benas, like  one  which  Jim  had  seen  at 
"  Marse  Desverney's."  There  was  to  be  a 
mound  of  fern  and  wild  violets.  A  purple 


Deacon  Sawrey  Explains  231 

clematis  was  to  be  coaxed  to  grow  with  the 
white  one  which  already  covered  the  little 
porch.  And  finally  Jim  prophesied,  with  a 
solemn  roll  of  his  eyes,  and  a  look  of  some- 
thing like  rapture  pervading  his  earnest  lit- 
tle countenance : 

"  Please  de  Lord,  Mis'  Beevish,  when  de 
Spring  come  we  is  goin'  to  make  dis  here 
de  wery  purties'  spot  ob  groun'  in  de  whole 
country!  " 


CHAPTER   XIX 

WINTER 

THE  driving  storms  of  Winter  were  send- 
ing their  snows  flying  over  Partletts',  swirl- 
ing in  the  hollows  and  lying  like  a  long,  white 
mantle  between  the  Witch's  cottage  and  the 
ocean,  along  the  smooth,  steep  slope. 

Lonely  enough  was  Partletts '  now ;  neither 
hunter  nor  wood-cutter  woke  the  silence,  only 
could  be  heard  the  occasional  snapping  of  a 
twig,  the  murmur,  now  low,  now  high,  of  the 
ever  hurrying  winds,  and  the  scamper  over 
the  crusted  snow  of  a  rabbit.  Down  below, 
from  the  other  side  of  the  hill's  crest,  could 
be  seen  the  Partlettsville  high  road,  a  line 
of  white,  broken  by  tracks  of  wheels,  and 
here  and  there  trampled  into  black,  icy  mud. 
And  from  the  town  itself  rose  the  smoke 
from  the  chimneys,  rising  in  a  thin  line  into 
the  cold  air,  then  suddenly  turned,  harried, 
and  driven  earthward  by  the  bleak  wind. 
232 


Winter  233 

The  row  of  firs  on  the  crest  of  the  hill, 
and  the  big  pine  and  the  little  one  bent  to 
the  same  chill  airs,  but  beyond,  in  the  dip  of 
the  hollow,  on  the  protected  side  of  the  hill, 
the  Witch's  cottage  stood  snug,  and  any 
night  one  might  see  the  cheerful  light  from 
her  kitchen  windows  shed  in  two  bright 
streams  over  the  lonely  waste  of  white  snow. 

But  it  was  seldom  that  any  one  passed 
here;  once  a  month,  however,  in  the  early 
afternoon,  several  pedestrians  made  their 
way  somewhat  to  the  fore  of  the  brow  of  the 
hill,  down  along  the  protected  slope,  and  so 
on  out  of  sight.  They  were  very  gay,  and 
lively,  and  little;  they  wore  mittens,  or  red 
gloves,  and  bright  caps;  they  were,  in  fact, 
the  children  of  the  Partlettsville  Sunday 
school  choir  on  their  way  to  the  big  church 
on  the  outskirts  of  Abbottsville,  where  chil- 
dren from  all  parts  of  the  scattered  country- 
side met  once  a  month  to  practise  together 
to  the  music  of  a  fine  organ.  This  choir 
practice  was  a  great  pleasure  to  the  little 
ones,  and  it  was  seldom  that  the  weather  was 


234  John  o'  Partletts' 

too  cold  or  rough  for  them  to  venture  forth. 
Many  a  wild  afternoon  they  could  be  seen 
scurrying  along  the  road,  their  laughing 
faces  held  down  against  the  wind,  all  ven- 
turesome, happy  and  ready  for  their  three 
mile  walk,  which  had  the  big  church  and  won- 
derful organ  at  the  end  of  it,  and  many  faces 
as  merry  and  rosy  as  their  own  to  greet 
them. 

Now,  children  do  not  always  do  as  they 
are  told,  and  these  particular  children  hav- 
ing been  warned  to  keep  strictly  to  the  high- 
road, and  not  to  deviate  therefrom,  did  noth- 
ing of  the  sort.  Instead,  they  walked  out  of 
Partlettsville  along  the  highroad  until  a  turn 
hid  them,  and  then  they  scrambled  up  the 
hill  of  Partletts'  with  all  possible  zeal  and 
celerity,  took  a  wood  track  which  led  within 
sight  of  the  Witch's  cottage,  down  on  the  far 
slope,  and  so  on  into  the  Abbottsville  turn- 
pike, thereby  forming  for  themselves  a  steep, 
but  very  desirable  short  cut.  Their  "  paddy- 
cut,"  they  called  it;  and  as  soon  as  the  town 
was  out  of  sight  the  shout  would  go  up: 


Winter  235 


<  i 


Now  for  the  paddy-cut!  '  And  there 
would  be  a  run  and  a  dash,  so  that  the  bigger 
ones  were  half-way  up  the  side  of  Partletts' 
before  they  paused  to  draw  breath. 

The  parents  of  all  those  children  would 
have  been  assured  that  the  Witch  would 
frighten  them,  or  the  big  dog  bite  them, 
should  they  show  their  noses  on  Partletts'. 
But  the  children  had  found  to  the  contrary. 
Though  they  had  at  first  undertaken  to  ven- 
ture over  the  hill  in  a  spirit  of  daring,  when 
they  found  it  convenient  and  safe  —  for  no 
one  molested  them  —  they  made  it  their  reg- 
ular route.  It  is  true  that  when  they  passed 
in  sight  of  the  Witch's  cottage  they  made 
great  haste  and  were  very  quiet,  but  for  all 
that  the  Witch  saw  them,  and  John  o'  Part- 
letts' felt  them.  Lying  on  the  kitchen  floor, 
with  doors  and  windows  all  tightly  sKut,  he 
would  suddenly  raise  his  great  head,  roll  his 
eyes  at  the  Witch,  and  his  bristles  could  be 
seen  to  rise  a  little. 

"  Never  mind,  John  man,"  the  old  woman 
would  explain,  "  it's  just  the  children!  ' 


236  John  o'  Partletts' 

And  down  would  go  the  great  head  again, 
while  the  little,  watchful  eyes  closed. 

But  the  old  woman  would  stand  long  at 
the  window  watching  the  hurrying  little  pro- 
cession; and  at  such  times  there  was  a  look 
upon  her  face  so  softened  that  those  who 
saw  it  only  under  other  circumstances  must 
have  wondered. 

But  now  a  very  great  loss  and  tribulation 
was  come  to  Partletts'. 

In  the  chill  grey  of  an  early  winter's  morn- 
ing the  Witch,  Jim  and  John,  ploughing 
forth  through  a  heavy  drift  of  snow,  made 
their  way  to  the  little  low-roofed  stable 
whose  solitary  stall  harbored  the  Witch's 
oldest  friend.  Very  old  was  he,  and  he  had 
passed  through  many  hands  before  he  came 
into  her  possession;  patient  and  willing, 
with  that  almost  infinite  patience  and  willing- 
ness of  the  old  work  horse,  old  Job  had 
served  her  with  all  his  strength  and  intel- 
ligence for  years. 

But  his  strength  had  been  waning;    only 


Winter  237 

an  easy  life  and  a  minimum  of  labor  had 
kept  him  on  his  legs  during  the  last  year. 
And  lately  the  Witch  had  often  stood  by  his 
stall  watching  Jim  measure  out  the  grain 
and  shake  out  the  straw  with  a  deepening  of 
her  hawk  eyes  and  a  slow  shake  of  her  head. 

This  morning,  Jim  carrying  the  measure 
of  oats  as  usual,  the  Witch  unlocked  the 
door,  John  pushed  his  great  head  forward, 
the  three  entered  —  and  stood  still. 

In  the  silence  of  the  night,  with  that  quiet 
resignation  that  belongs  to  his  kind,  old  Job 
had  lain  down  upon  his  straw  for  the  last 
time.  From  beneath  an  old,  striped  com- 
forter pinned  about  him  his  legs  stretched 
forth  stiffly.  They  had  moved  over  miles 
and  miles  of  roadway,  rough  and  even,  stony 
and  smooth,  as  Fate  had  sent,  in  the  service 
of  others ;  they  would  never  bend  to  the  will 
of  man  again ! 

The  old  woman  quietly  walked  over  to  the 
side  of  the  stall,  and  looked  down  upon  the 
big,  rusty  head,  the  wide  open  eyes,  and 
slowly  the  lines  of  her  strong  face  broke  in 


238  John  o'  Partletts' 

deep  emotion,  for,  in  this  moment,  she 
seemed  suddenly  to  feel  a  whole  world  of 
patient  endurance,  tragedy,  death  epitomized 
in  the  rusty  face,  the  wide,  fixed  eyes  of  her 
old  horse. 

She  took  a  shawl  from  her  shoulders,  laid 
it  over  the  still  head  and  covered  the  set  eyes. 

11  Come,  little  Jim!  "  she  said  softly. 

And  in  silence  the  three  filed  out  into  the 
chill  of  the  winter  morning  and  the  solemn 
quiet  of  the  hill. 

In  the  little  stable  all  was  very  still.  Old 
Job  lay  beside  the  strange  old  carriage,  as 
ancient,  decrepit,  as  much  ridiculed  in  its 
time  as  he  —  but  neither  was  ever  to  be  seen 
upon  the  Abbottsville  turnpike  again. 

In  the  very  midst  of  her  disinterested  grief 
and  sorrow  for  the  old  friend  who  had  served 
her  for  so  many  years,  the  Witch  began  to 
feel  herself  confronted  by  a  formidable, 
practical  problem.  She  would  not  deal  in 
Partlettsville  —  indeed  the  feeling  between 
herself  and  the  tradespeople  there  made  such 


Winter  239 


a  thing  impossible  now.  How,  then,  was  she 
to  obtain  her  supplies  with  the  necessary 
regularity,  her  horse  being  dead  and  Ab- 
bottsville  over  three  miles  away?  True,  the 
hardy  old  woman  and  the  dog  were  able  to 
make  this  trip  as  often  as  was  required,  but 
the  problem  was  concerning  Jim. 

The  child  had  come  to  her  delicate.  His 
hard  experiences  in  Partlettsville  among 
strangers  had  undermined  his  slender  store 
of  vitality;  care,  and  the  healthful  life  of 
Partletts ',  had  helped  to  pull  him  together ; 
but  his  extreme  terror  on  the  August  night 
when  he  was  stolen,  and  also  on  the  occasion 
of  the  fire  scare  at  Partletts',  had  had  their 
effect  upon  him.  He  was  easily  tired,  and 
readily  thrown  into  a  chill  by  long  exposure 
to  the  icy  winds.  For  him,  therefore,  to  walk 
through  snow  and  cold  to  Abbottsville  when- 
ever the  exigency  should  arise  was  impossi- 
ble. But  it  was  equally  impossible  to  leave 
him  alone  at  home.  The  Witch  feared  to 
do  so  since  she  had  learned  what  might  come 
of  it;  and  as  for  Jim,  the  very  thought  of 


240  John  o'  Partletts' 

being  left  by  himself  in  the  cottage  was  now 
so  fraught  with  terror  that  the  mere  idea 
caused  him  almost  as  much  fright  as  if  his 
late  captors  had  presented  themselves  bodily 
before  him. 

There  was  nothing  for  it  then  but  to  essay 
the  trip  in  concert.  This  was  done,  but,  on 
the  third  occasion,  encountering  a  heavy 
wind  on  the  way  home,  Jim  reached  the  cot- 
tage so  chilled  and  exhausted  that  the  Witch 
was  afraid  to  expose  him  thus  again,  and  she 
herself  felt  an  extreme  weariness.  The  only 
one  of  the  party  who  appeared  perfectly 
fresh  and  cheerful  was  John  o'  Partletts'. 
He  enjoyed  the  whole  performance  from  be- 
ginning to  end,  and  trotted  up  the  hill  in  the 
teeth  of  the  rising  gale  as  hardily  and  quickly 
as  if  it  were  no  more  than  blown  thistle- 
down. He  was  encumbered  too,  for  the  pack- 
ages and  bundles  being  numerous,  the  Witch 
had  given  a  share  to  the  strongest  of  the 
party,  which  manoauvre  she  had  accom- 
plished by  making  a  strong  sort  of  woollen 
bag  as  wide  as  the  dog's  deep  chest,  and  this 


Winter  241 

was  attached  around  his  neck,  and  further 
strengthened  by  a  remarkable  array  of 
straps  which  went  over  his  shoulders  and 
under  his  fore-arms.  It  was  decidedly  a 
strange  contraption,  and  quite  like  the  Witch 
to  make  it  of  size,  shape  and  color  which 
defied  all  appearances. 

John  o '  Partletts '  had  no  shame  in  wearing 
it,  however.  His  mistress  assured  him  that 
it  made  him  most  useful,  and  that  he  was 
rendering  her  a  valuable  service,  and,  if  he 
did  not  comprehend  her  exact  words,  he  fully 
understood  the  gist  of  them,  and  more  than 
all,  he  understood  the  meaning  in  her  eyes 
when  she  informed  him  of  these  things.  And 
he  wore  his  outlandish  equipment,  which,  by 
the  way,  had  been  made  out  of  an  old,  flow- 
ered sofa  cover,  with  quite  an  air  of  pride, 
as  if  he  were  honorably  ornamented,  and 
most  willingly  bore  whatever  burdens  were 
packed  and  tied  about  him. 

Seeing  him  bear  himself  so  cheerfully  thus 
laden,  a  further  idea  occurred  to  the  Witch. 
Why  not  let  John  o'  Partletts'  go  down  alone 


242  John  o'  Partletts' 

for  the  supplies?  He  could  make  frequent 
trips,  thus  never  be  heavily  burdened,  and 
in  this  way  her  dilemma  about  Jim  would  be 
entirely  surmounted.  She  had  not  the  slight- 
est fear  but  that  she  could  make  the  dog  un- 
derstand her  wishes ;  and  he  could  make  his 
trip  —  not  along  the  Abbottsville  turnpike  — 
but  along  a  track  leading  through  a  quiet 
strip  of  woods,  which  opened  out  almost 
directly  behind  Mr.  Finn's  store,  as  it  stood 
on  the  outskirts  of  Abbottsville.  After  a 
little  further  thought  she  resolved  to  try  it. 

It  was  a  success!  A  success  from  every 
point  of  view,  especially  the  dog's.  The 
great  beast  felt  his  importance.  When  the 
time  came  to  go  he  was  always  expectant  and 
ready. 

Hence  could  be  seen  the  unique  spectacle 
of  an  enormous  animal,  strangely  capari- 
soned, trotting  into  Abbottsville,  on  frequent 
occasions,  and  into  the  store  of  Mr.  Finn; 
which  gentleman  would  receive  his  visitor 
with  many  remarks  and  commendations  as 
to  his  sagacity ;  feel  in  the  bag  of  many  col- 


Winter  243 

ors  for  a  paper  which  contained  the  list  of 
articles  required;  fill  the  bag  with  said  ar- 
ticles ;  adjust  the  wonderful  arrangement  of 
straps,  which  at  first  had  been  puzzling  — 
but  a  careful  study  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Finn 
had  elucidated  the  problem  —  and  out  would 
go  John  o'  Partletts'  to  push  through  the 
amused  and  staring  spectators  on  the  side- 
walk, turn  a  corner,  traverse  an  empty  lot  or 
two,  plunge  again  into  the  woods  and  the 
little  wood-track  for  home. 

A  wondering  customer,  one  day,  observing 
Mr.  Finn  take  a  bill  from  the  dog's  bag, 
count  up  the  value  of  the  purchases,  and  re- 
place some  change,  exclaimed : 

"  Money,  too!  You  receive  and  send 
money?  " 

"  Everything,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Finn  tri- 
umphantly, as  if  it  were  a  device  of  his  own 
ingenuity,  '  *  goes  and  comes  by  that  dog ! 
And  what,  let  me  ask  you,  could  be  safer! 
For  his  part,  we  know  he 's  honest !  And  —  * ' 
laughing  as  the  dog's  great  bulk  filled  the 
entrance  to  the  shop,  and  some  incoming  cus- 


244  John  o'  Partletts' 

tomers  backed  away  hastily  —  * '  look  at  him ! 
Who'd  tackle  him,  do  you  think,  eh?  " 

And  so  John  o'  Partletts'  became  recog- 
nized in  Abbottsville  as  a  useful  member  of 
society.  Mr.  Finn  bragged  of  him  to  all 
comers.  He  told  how  he  served  the  lonely 
old  woman  and  sickly  child,  and  when  the 
big  dog  made  his  appearance  in  the  street 
more  than  one  person  stepped  aside  —  more 
in  deference  than  in  fear  —  and  more  than 
one  voice  called  out  right  heartily  to  him 
that  he  was  a  fine  fellow! 

And  far  up  on  Partletts '  the  old  Witch  and 
Jim,  listening  to  the  rising  wind,  would  talk 
of  "  Marse  Johnny;  "  figure  what  portion 
of  the  road  he  had  reached,  and  listen,  as 
dusk  gathered,  for  his  quick  scratch  and 
whine  at  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XX 

JOHN   O'  PARTLETTS'  IN   THE  DAEK  VALLEY 

ONE'S  fame  is  never  confined  to  the  ears 
of  one's  friends.  If  such  were  the  case  this 
pleasant  state  of  affairs  might  have  gone  on 
for  long  and  John  o'  Partletts'  continued  his 
trips  indefinitely. 

But  Gus  Schaftsmire  also  went  regularly 
into  Abbottsville  to  receive  the  supplies  for 
his  father's  shop,  and  before  long  he  heard 
of  the  big  dog,  and  at  length,  being  in  the 
vicinity  of  Mr.  Finn's  store,  caught  a  glimpse 
of  him. 

"  Oh,  ho!  "  he  exclaimed,  "  so  it's  you, 
is  it?  An'  ain't  that  the  most  ridiculous 
sight!  "  he  guffawed. 

But  those  about  him  not  seeming  to  see 

so  much  humor  in  the  situation,  he  subdued 

his   mirth,   scratched  his   ear  thoughtfully, 

and,  driving  back  to  Partlettsville,  spread 

245 


246  John  o'  Partletts' 

the  news  of  what  he  had  seen,  which  was  re- 
ceived there  with  plenty  of  amusement  and 
comment. 

"  An'  you  know,"  said  Gus  with  the  pecul- 
iar whine  that  always  came  into  his  voice 
when  his  feelings  were  hurt,  "  it  ain't  very 
pleasant  now,  is  it,  to  hear  the  big  brute 
praised,  knowin'  what  I  know  about  him? 
An'  him  marchin'  round,  all  importance, 
while  I  got  the  mark  of  his  teeth  in  my  leg 
this  minute!  " 

And,  incensing  himself  by  a  still  further 
recollection  of  his  injuries,  he  reverted  to  his 
original  opinion,  expressed  many  a  time  con- 
cerning John  when  he  was  John  Frenchy. 

"  He'd  ought  to  have  a  load  o'  lead  in  him 
anyway,  that's  what  he'd  ought  to  have! 
But,  strange  thing,"  he  added,  "  I  never 
meet  him  on  the  Abbottsville  turnpike;  I 
guess, ' '  finished  Gus,  in  his  braggadocio  way, 
"  he  and  I'd  have  come  to  conclusions  if  I 
had!  " 

"  Oh,  most  like,"  suggested  Kitty  Merry- 
weather,  "  she  sends  'im  some  private  way 


John  o'  Partletts'  in  the  Dark  Valley  247 

of  'er  own;  some  back  track  through  the 
woods!  " 

"  Most  like  she  does!"  exclaimed  Gus. 
"  An'  just  there  you  give  me  an  idea!  Just 
there  you  set  me  to  thinkin'!  " 

"  Thinkin'  about  what?  "  asked  Kitty, 
laughing.  "  Don't  overwork  that  head-piece 
of  yours,  Gussie;  you  know  it  ain't  over 
strong!  " 

"  Just  wait,"  replied  Gus,  "  till  I  get  it 
all  straight  in  my  own  mind,  an'  I'll  ac- 
quaint you  with  the  details.  An  idea's  oc- 
curred to  me,  that's  all!  "  And  again  he 
scratched  his  ear  and  lounged  away,  an  un- 
usually thoughtful  expression  on  his  florid 
face. 

After  this,  for  several  weeks,  Gus  was 
secret,  and  very  quiet.  His  favorite  haunts 
knew  him  no  more;  he  was  seldom  found 
hanging  about  the  main  street;  kept  very 
sober,  and  even  his  customary  potations  of 
beer  being  neglected  at  the  little  Partletts- 
ville  saloon,  the  bartender  was  constrained 
to  inquire: 


248  John  o'  Partletts' 

11  What's  become  of  Gussie?  What's  he 
up  to,  these  days?  " 

As  for  that  young  man,  he  was  continually 
finding  excuses  to  go  over  to  Abbottsville. 
He  no  longer  complained  that  the  road  was 
tedious,  nor  that  it  was  hard  a  fellow  should 
be  expected  to  spend  his  life  driving  a  cart 
and  nag  from  one  town  to  the  next.  And 
instead  of  reappearing,  as  in  old  times,  at 
the  shop  in  a  marvellously  short  space  of 
time,  his  horse  in  a  lather,  his  load  shaken 
up  with  the  haste  of  the  journey,  he  seldom 
reached  home  before  dark;  and  his  irate 
father  complained  now  as  much  of  tardiness 
as,  in  times  past,  he  had  lamented  his  sense- 
less and  rash  speed. 

Willie  Merryweather  was  seen  to  be  part- 
ner upon  these  lone  excursions,  and,  had  any 
one  been  at  the  other  end  of  the  route,  the 
two  would  have  been  observed  dodging  about 
the  woods  that  skirted  Abbottsville,  watch- 
ing and  peeping,  and  when  they  returned  to 
Partlettsville  they  usually  met  again  in  the 
evening  in  Kitty's  kitchen,  where  they  held 


John  o'  Partletts'  in  the  Dark  Valley  249 

a  sort  of  session,  to  which  were  admitted 
Michaelson  and  others. 

Various  mysterious  allusions  would  then 
be  made,  such  as  from  Grus : 

"  It  would  best  be  pulled  off  somewhere 
not  too  near  Abbottsville.  You  see,  them 
folks  over  there  ain't  any  too  good  friends 
of  mine!  " 

"  Oh,  let  it  come  off  somewhere  near  her 
own  'ouse,"  Kitty  would  break  in.  "  It 
would  give  her  a  good  scare,  and  make  her 
see  what  she  kin  expect,  an'  that  she  ain't 
so  independent  of  us!  " 

"  Mayhap  it  would  cause  her  take  a  fright 
an'  clear  out  before  the  Deacon  turns  her 
out, ' '  suggested  Michaelson. 

The  Witch  had  lately  begun  to  feel  more 
and  more  anxious  about  John  o'  Partletts' 
when  he  was  off  on  his  errands.  Perhaps 
one  reason  for  this  was  that  lately,  when  the 
dog  returned,  he  came  rushing  up  in  a  great 
hurry  with  a  worried  and  furtive  expression, 
and  during  the  whole  evening,  as  he  lay  by 


250  John  o'  Partletts' 

the  fire,  would  start  and  growl  in  his  sleep 
as  if  alarmed  or  disconcerted. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter,  John?  "  she 
would  exclaim,  looking  at  him  when  he  raised 
his  head,  as  if  to  read  an  answer  in  his  eyes. 

Her  anxiety  communicated  itself  to  Jim, 
and  soon  it  came  about  that  neither  of  them 
could  do  anything  when  John  was  gone  but 
listen  for  his  return.  Yet,  neither  wished 
to  alarm  the  other.  Jim  would  loiter  near 
the  window,  pretending  to  be  idly  looking 
out,  but  in  reality,  watching.  And  the  Witch, 
if  she  heard  a  noise,  would  raise  her  head 
with  a  sudden  start,  and  then  lower  it  again, 
as  if  she  had  merely  jerked  it  in  harmony 
with  the  tune  she  was  humming. 

One  afternoon  —  it  was  now  late  in  Janu- 
ary —  John  had  departed  on  his  errand.  He 
had  been  long  gone.  Dusk  closed  in  and  the 
kitchen  lamp  was  lighted.  Jim  and  the  old 
Witch  occasionally  glanced  at  the  clock,  then 
at  each  other,  but  neither  spoke.  Black  dark- 
ness fell  outside.  Suppertime  arrived.  The 
fire  in  the  kitchen  stove  required  brighten- 


John  o'  Partletts'  in  the  Dark  Valley  251 

ing,  and  Jim  stepped  down  into  the  wood- 
shed to  get  an  extra  armful  of  wood ;  he  left 
the  kitchen  door  open  behind  him,  but  he  did 
not  return  through  it,  for,  at  the  moment  he 
stepped  into  the  wood-shed,  something  hap- 
pened. 

In  the  meantime  John  o'  Partletts'  had 
gone  to  Mr.  Finn's  store,  got  his  parcels  and 
his  change,  and  was  returning.  As  the  early 
dusk  fell,  he  trotted  along  the  wood  path 
briskly,  his  fierce  little  eyes  glancing  from 
side  to  side  with  a  suspicious  expression. 

At  a  certain  spot  where  the  wood  was  very 
dense  he  slowed  up  and  glanced  toward  the 
road ;  there  stood  a  horse  and  cart ;  he  had 
seen  them  there  frequently,  also  two  figures 
lurking  in  their  vicinity;  but  this  time  he 
did  not  see  the  figures!  This  was  why  he 
paused.  He  knew  they  were  there,  he  felt 
them !  With  rising  bristles  he  glanced  about 
him,  and  then  instinctively,  glanced  straight 
up.  It  was  dark  now,  and  by  the  human  eye 
nothing  could  be  seen  but  the  densely  woven 


252  John  o'  Partletts' 

branches,  black  against  the  blackness  of  the 
winter  sky.  But  the  animal  eyes  saw  some- 
thing more;  they  saw  figures,  not  two,  but 
many,  crouching  motionless;  and  eyes,  hu- 
man eyes,  all  looking  downward  toward  him, 
and  filled  with  a  certain  definite  intent. 

John  o'  Partletts'  never  paused.  Perhaps 
he  remembered  that  day  when  something 
bright  had  flashed  out  at  him,  and  he  had 
been  so  mysteriously  stung  with  a  terrible 
pain;  perhaps  he  felt,  instinctively,  his  in- 
evitable helplessness  against  his  enemies 
thus  at  close  range.  At  any  rate,  he  wheeled, 
and,  quicker  than  thought,  went  galloping 
like  mad,  straight  through  the  underbrush, 
for  the  Abbottsville  turnpike.  Lowering  his 
great  head,  he  smashed  and  tore  through  the 
thick  dried  branches  and  vines.  In  scarce  an 
instant  he  was  gone,  —  out  of  sight,  and  only 
the  rumble  and  crackling,  as  he  rushed  on, 
told  of  his  passage  through  the  lonely  wood. 

Those  left  behind  had  not  had  time  to  act. 

"  Tricked  again!  "  came  a  voice  from  the 
branches;  it  was  Michaelson's. 


John  o'  Partletts'  in  the  Dark  Valley  253 


<  i 


No  —  not  on  your  life!  "  cried  another, 
Gus  Schaftsmire 's.  "  We're  out  to  get  him, 
an'  we'll  do  it!  Follow  me!  ':  Gus'  voice 
was  fairly  shaking.  He  was  the  quickest,  the 
most  inventive,  and  daring  of  them  all,  and 
the  others  slid  down  the  tree  in  obedience  to 
his  command. 

There  was  a  run  for  the  wagon,  which  had 
been  left,  not  on  the  turnpike,  but  on  an  old 
wood  road,  long  in  disuse,  called  the  English 
road,  which  ran  between  the  dog's  wood 
track  and  the  Abbottsville  turnpike.  The 
English  had  made  it  in  Revolutionary  times, 
and,  to  judge  by  appearances,  it  had  neither 
been  repaired  nor  used  much  since. 

Gus  leaped  into  the  seat  while  the  others 
scrambled  aboard,  and  took  up  the  reins. 

"  Good  Lord,  Gussie!  "  cried  out  Kitty 
Merryweather  —  she  had  been  seated  in  the 
wagon  all  the  while,  watching  through  a  hole 
in  the  canvas  to  see  the  fun  —  * '  have  a  care 
for  us,  do!  Oh,  Lord!  Ain't  you  the  crazy 
head,  though ! ' ' 

For  the  wagon  leaped  and  bounded,  now 


254  John  o'  Partletts' 

on  three  wheels,  now  on  two,  over  rocks,  logs 
and  drifted  snow,  at  the  most  astounding 
rate,  while  Gus  encouraged  his  horse  to  a 
yet  faster  pace. 

' '  We  got  to  head  him  off !  "  he  explained. 
"  He's  goin'  along  the  Abbottsville  turnpike; 
but  I  guess  I  know  the  spot  where  his 
Highness  is  bound  to  come  out,  —  near 
the  top  of  Partletts'.  "We  got  to  nab  him 
there!  " 

"  Near  the  top  of  Partletts'!  "  repeated 
Kitty.  ' '  What  —  in  plain  sight  o '  the  old 
woman's  'ouse?  " 

"  What  do  you  suppose  I  care  for  that?  ' 
shouted  back  Gussie,  holding  on  to  the  sway- 
ing vehicle,  and  looking  at  the  others.  "  I 
come  out  here  to  git  him,  an'  I'm  goin'  to 
git  him,  this  time!  Go  along  there,  will 
you?  "  he  cried,  again  leaning  over  the 
straining  horse. 

What  happened  while  Jim  was  in  the  wood- 
shed was  this. 

A  cry  came  to  his  ears,  wild,  hoarse,  be- 
tween a  howl  and  a  bellow;  it  had  fright  in 


John  o'  Partletts'  in  the  Dark  Valley   255 

it,  surprise,  terror,  and  appeal,  and,  right  in 
the  middle,  as  it  reached  a  crescendo,  it  was 
suddenly  choked  off,  and  a  dead  silence  fol- 
lowed. 

Jim  listened,  frozen  by  the  sound  for  a 
moment.  The  next  he  had  thrown  open  the 
outer  door.  From  the  distance  came  voices, 
and  something  that  sounded  like  a  moan, 
but  not  in  a  human  tone!  And  then  Jim, 
shrinking,  timid  little  Jim,  was  outside  of 
the  wood-shed,  in  the  open,  the  biggest  stick 
he  could  snatch  in  his  hand,  screaming  at 
the  top  of  his  voice! 

"  Mis'  Beevish,  Mis'  Beevish!  Some- 
body's got  Marse  Johnny!  "  And  he  was 
rushing  toward  the  sound  of  those  voices, 
and  that  faint  other  sound,  as  if  he  were  a 
whole  army,  a  veritable  troop  of  cavalry  in 
himself.  In  truth,  had  any  one  seen  his 
little,  black  face  at  this  moment,  there  would 
have  appeared  no  fear  in  it.  It  was  ablaze 
with  frantic  excitement.  Marse  Johnny  had 
helped  him  once,  and  now  —  it  was  Jim's 
turn  now  1 


256  John  o'  Partletts' 

The  old  Witch  needed  no  second  call,  no 
repeated  warning.  At  the  sound  of  the  first 
cry  she  was  on  her  feet.  She  threw  open  the 
window  to  hear  the  better,  and  the  icy  wind 
rushed  in,  also  the  sound  of  those  voices  in 
the  distance.  Her  face  whitened,  and,  turn- 
ing, she  glanced  about  her  with  blazing  eyes ; 
they  fell  upon  a  knife  that  lay  upon  the  table 
near  her,  and  catching  it  up,  she  rushed  out 
into  the  night,  without  stopping  to  protect 
herself  from  the  cold,  muttering  and  gestic- 
ulating with  raised  arms. 

The  snow  lay  deep  on  the  ground  and  was 
glazed  over,  the  night  being  bitterly  cold. 
The  moon  had  risen,  and  was  just  above  the 
tree-tops,  brightening  the  great  hollow  of  the 
vast  star-lit  sky,  and  casting  a  clear  light 
upon  the  white  ground. 

The  old  woman  came  abreast  of  Jim,  but 
neither  spoke;  they  ran,  swift  as  shadows, 
and  as  silent. 

She  passed  the  boy,  slipped,  fell,  and  he 
was  on  ahead,  not  pausing  to  look  back ;  but 
the  next  instant,  with  wonderful  quickness, 


John  o'  Partletts'  in  the  Dark  Valley  257 

she  had  regained  her  feet  and  had  taken  the 
lead.  So  they  ran,  nearer  to  the  voice?, 
nearer  to  that  low,  strange  moaning.  And 
then  the  voices  ceased,  and  the  moaning  also, 
and  all  was  silence.  Little  Jim,  listening  in 
vain  for  a  repetition  of  its  sound,  fluttered 
his  hands  with  a  gesture  of  helpless  despair 
as  he  ran,  but  he  never  abated  his  speed  for 
one  second;  and  the  old  woman  never 
paused.  Until,  suddenly,  they  both  stood,  as 
by  one  impulse,  still  and  panting. 

They  had  reached  the  brow  of  the  hill  and 
were  looking  down. 

Directly  before  them,  about  forty  paces 
down  the  side  of  the  steep  slope,  stood  a 
thick  clump  of  tall  chestnut  trees,  their 
branches  inextricably  interwoven,  and  from 
one  of  these  hung  a  dark,  heavy  form;  the 
wind  slightly  swayed  it,  and  a  faint,  convul- 
sive shudder  passed  through  it  from  head  to 
foot,  as  if  it  were  the  last  tremor  of  life ;  and 
then  it  hung  stiff  and  motionless;  only  the 
gale  swung  it  slightly  sidewise,  ruffling  the 
heavy,  coarse  hair  that  stood  out  stiffly  as  if 


258  John  o'  Partletts' 

it  had  bristled  thus  at  the  moment  of  danger 
and  surprise. 

The  Witch  was  at  the  base  of  the  tree, 
knowing  not  how  she  had  gained  it,  how  she 
had  traversed  the  space  that  separated  her 
from  it,  —  knowing  only  one  thing,  that  she 
could  not  reach  the  body,  nor  the  rope  by 
which  it  hung !  She  dropped  her  head  on  her 
hands,  and  then  another  realization  came  to 
her ;  —  those  who  had  done  this  were  still 
within  call!  And  she  cried  out  in  a  voice  in 
which  there  was  no  anger  nor  violence,  only 
the  most  beseeching  entreaty : 

"  Is  there  no  one  here  who  will  help  met  " 

In  all  the  wood  there  was  silence  as  if  not 
a  creature  moved  or  heard. 

But  just  at  her  elbow  she  could  hear,  for 
the  second  time  in  her  life,  a  very  small 
voice,  saying  words  the  most  welcome  to  her 
ear: 

"  Mis'  Beevish,  I  is  here!  " 


CHAPTER   XXI 

A   GLIMPSE    OF   SPRING 

How  little  Jim  scrambled  into  the  tree,  cut 
the  rope  which  bound  the  great  dog  with  the 
knife  the  old  Witch  thrust  into  his  hand,  how 
John  o'  Partletts'  body  fell  with  a  thud  to 
the  ground,  how  they  got  him  home,  and 
whether  dead  or  alive,  —  it  did  not  belong 
to  the  Partlettsville  folk  to  know ;  for,  at  the 
first  sound  of  the  old  woman's  voice,  they 
scurried  away  through  the  underbrush,  no 
one  wishing  to  be  recognized  and  identified. 

Days  passed,  and  weeks,  and  those  who 
had  entrapped  him  on  that  January  night 
were  entirely  satisfied  that  he  was  safely 
dead  and  buried.  "  Under  the  lilacs!  "  re- 
marked Gus  with  a  smile.  For  they  knew 
that  he  had  been  wounded.  Two  of  them 
had  had  "  a  go  "  at  him,  and  both  shots  had 
taken  effect. 

Indeed  it  goes  without  saying  that  John  o ' 

259 


260  John  o'  Partletts' 

Partletts'  was  badly  wounded  before  any 
man  among  them  dared  put  a  rope  about  his 
neck,  and  tie  him  to  a  tree ! 

But  dead  he  was  not !  —  as  any  one  passing 
the  Witch's  cottage  on  bright  afternoons  in 
late  February  could  have  testified.  There  he 
might  have  been  seen  sitting  in  the  sun,  or 
walking  up  and  down,  slightly  lame,  it  is 
true,  but  otherwise  apparently  strong  and 
hearty. 

It  was  the  choir  children  who  finally  took 
this  news  down  to  Partlettsville.  They  re- 
ported that  they  had  seen  the  big  dog, 
though,  as  Partletts'  was  forbidden  ground 
for  them,  they  were  careful  not  to  mention 
where. 

The  Witch's  grief  and  rage  over  the  whole 
affair  were  mingled  with  self-reproach.  She 
could  not  forgive  herself  for  exposing  a 
faithful  friend  to  such  a  danger,  and  she 
remarked  to  Jim: 

"  He'll  never  go  on  another  errand,  —  I'll 
starve  first!  " 


A  Glimpse  of  Spring  261 

But  starvation  was  not  practicable;  she 
therefore  did  something  almost  as  painful 
as  that  alternative  to  her  nature.  She  low- 
ered her  pride. 

Never  —  at  least  since  she  had  come  into 
this  part  of  the  world  —  had  she  asked  a 
favor  of  any  one.  It  is  safe  to  say  she  would 
not  have  received  a  favor  had  it  been  freely 
offered  her.  But  now  she  was  forced  to  ask 
and  receive. 

It  was  said  that  she  quite  broke  down, 
when,  in  Mr.  Finn's  store,  she  told  him  of 
what  had  occurred  and  was  forced  to  ask  him 
to  help  her  out  of  her  difficulties.  There 
were  tears  in  her  voice,  and  in  her  eyes,  when 
she  related  how  her  messenger  had  been 
served;  and  she,  who  had  always  striven  to 
be  independent  and  self-reliant,  spoke  of  her- 
self as  a  friendless  old  woman. 

Mr.  Finn  expressed  sympathy  and  regret 
at  losing  John  o'  Partletts'  for  a  customer: 
"  As  polite  and  well  behaved  as  any  who 
came  into  my  store,  Ma'm!  "  But  more 
than  sympathy  and  compliments,  he  gave  his 


262  John  o'  Partletts' 

promise  that  he  would  send  provisions  over 
the  three  miles  to  Partletts'.  In  those  days 
tradesmen  never  thought  of  sending  dis- 
tances, and  this  was  indeed  a  favor! 

Consequently,  after  this,  at  stated  inter- 
vals, a  horse  and  wagon  could  be  seen  break- 
ing the  long  untrodden  snow  line  on  the 
steep  slope  of  Partletts',  bearing,  through 
the  rigid,  bitter  season,  the  necessities  of  life 
to  the  three  in  their  lonely  isolation  on  the 
hill  top. 

The  old  woman  seen  in  Mr.  Finn's  store 
would  scarcely  be  recognized  as  the  one  who, 
a  few  days  later,  met  Gus  Schaftsmire  and 
Michaelson  on  the  high  road.  Deeply 
wounded  as  she  was,  —  far  more  deeply  than 
had  they  taken  their  revenge  upon  her  own 
person  —  she  was  about  to  pass  them  in 
silence;  but  they  could  not  resist  taunting 
her,  and  she  stopped  at  length  to  answer 
their  taunts  in  kind,  when  who  should  come 
stalking  toward  them,  bent  on  his  parochial 
rounds,  but  the  "  Maister  "  himself.  Tall, 


A  Glimpse  of  Spring  263 

judicial,  self-contained,  he  paused  to  listen 
to  the  Witch's  reproaches,  which  were  inci- 
sive enough,  once  she  was  well  started,  and 
especially  since  she  perceived  him  as  audi- 
ence. Michaelson  and  Gus  were  wise  enough 
to  cease  their  snickering  and  grimacing,  and 
they  even  managed  to  assume  expressions  of 
innocence  and  surprise. 

Suddenly  Mr.  Carruthers  turned  to  them, 
and  pointed  along  the  road. 

"  Pass  on,  don't  stop  here!  "  he  said  in 
his  authoritative  manner.  And  when  Gus 
and  Michaelson,  triumphant  and  amused, 
were  out  of  ear-shot,  he  turned  to  the  old 
woman. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  surprised,"  he  remarked 
in  his  grave,  confident  voice,  "  at  your  ma- 
king a  commotion  in  a  public  place,  because 
I  have  heard  of  your  doing  so  before!  I 
understand  that  it  is  of  a  mishap  to  your 
dog  you  are  speaking,  and  I  have  not  a  doubt 
that  your  accusations  are  wild.  And,  even 
if  they  are  not,  your  appearance  certainly 
is !  It  seems  very  far  from  commendable 


264  John  o'  Partletts' 

that  you  should  berate  your  fellow-men  in 
defence  of  an  animal !  Surely  you  do  not  put 
a  soulless  brute  above  human  beings?  " 

The  Witch  looked  at  him  for  a  full  half- 
minute.  Her  lips  were  trembling,  and  so  was 
her  throat,  as  if  with  a  torrent  of  words 
which  her  emotion  checked  her  from  uttering. 
But  when  she  spoke  it  was  quietly: 

1 '  And  who  made  him,  then,  —  my  soulless 
brute?  Perhaps,  Henry  Carruthers,  you  can 
tell  me !  —  that  he  should  be  at  the  mercy  of 
my  fellow-creatures  to  ill-treat  and  abuse  as 
they  please?  "  And  she  passed  on  without 
another  word,  along  her  lonely  way  to  the 
steep  ascent  of  Partletts',  looking  sad,  grave, 
and  more  broken  than  ever  before. 

But  Spring  was  now  again  blessing  the 
land !  Even  in  this  part  of  the  world,  where 
she  showed  her  face  with  more  than  her  pro- 
verbial coyness  —  even  here,  in  spite  of  all 
her  vagaries,  her  presence  was  felt,  —  felt 
in  the  warm  sunshine,  and  the  lengthening 
days.  And  there  were  evidences  of  her  in 


A  Glimpse  of  Spring  265 

the  brightening  skies,  and  in  quick-fleeing 
March  birds. 

Wiseacres,  however,  shook  their  heads. 
For  the  ground  was  still  frozen,  the  nights 
continued  cold,  and  streams  wore  their  thick 
winter  coating  of  ice. 

It  was  not  until  a  certain  day  in  March 
that  the  temperature  sprang  up.  Then,  as  if 
by  magic,  the  ground  seemed  to  melt  under- 
foot, evergreens  appeared  vivid,  the  sun- 
shine was  proclaimed  as  hot;  and  beneath 
the  ice,  the  waters,  released  from  a  hundred 
high  sources,  could  be  heard  tinkling  and 
surging  against  their  yet  tenacious  ice  cov- 
ering. 

With  the  enthusiasm  of  the  season,  people 
walked  with  lighter,  quicker  steps.  In  Part- 
lettsville  cheerful,  and  even  gay,  greetings 
were  exchanged.  Old  Elsa,  looking  out  from 
the  Rectory  kitchen  at  the  flooding  sunshine, 
yielded  at  length  to  little  Margy's  oft  re- 
peated entreaties  that  she  be  allowed  to  go 
with  her  brothers  and  sisters  to  choir  prac- 
tice. 


266  John  o'  Partletts' 

And  that  small  person,  much  too  enthusi- 
astic to  contain  quietly  such  an  amount  of 
pleasant  expectation,  went  jumping  about 
the  big  kitchen  on  her  toeg,  pretending  to 
clap  her  hands,  and  making  motions  with  her 
rosy  little  mouth  as  if  she  were  shouting, 
though  not  a  sound  came  forth ;  —  for  Fa- 
ther was  in  the  house  and  must  not  be  dis- 
turbed 1 

And  the  grave  man,  shut  up  in  his  study 
and  glancing  from  his  window,  saw  the  dart- 
ing birds  and  brightness,  too;  and  for  a 
moment  stood  looking  out  at  them  with  some- 
thing hungry  and  wistful  in  his  eyes.  But 
he  turned  from  them  with  a  sigh,  and  seating 
himself  at  his  desk,  continued  writing  upon 
a  discourse  in  which  this  world  was  set  forth 
most  uncompromisingly  as  a  Vale  of  Tears. 


CHAPTER   XXH 

THE   STORM 

OP  course  on  such  a  day  the  Witch  was 
out  in  her  garden.  The  happy  moment  had 
arrived  when  she  could  begin  Spring  work 
upon  it,  and  she  and  Jim  were  scraping 
around  the  roots  of  the  shrubs,  pruning  dead 
branches,  tying  up  live  ones,  while  John  o* 
Partletts',  stretching,  and  blinking  his  little 
eyes,  strolled  after  in  his  own  enjoyment  of 
the  occasion. 

Very  early  in  the  afternoon  the  Sunday 
school  children  went  by,  —  more  hastily  than 
usual,  because  the  old  woman  and  the  dog 
were  out.  The  Witch,  shading  her  eyes, 
looked  at  them  with  her  customary  intent- 
ness. 

All  the  children  of  Partlettsville  were 
there  this  afternoon.  Willie  Merryweather 

267 


268  John  o'  Partletts' 

in  the  fore,  and  plump,  petted  Eva  Sawrey 
in  the  rear.  Mittens  and  mufflers  had  been 
discarded,  and  they  made  a  gay  little  pro- 
cession, some  bareheaded,  swinging  their 
hats  and  caps  as  they  walked. 

And  there,  too,  was  little  Margy  Carru- 
thers,  the  smallest  and  merriest  of  all.  The 
most  fearless,  too,  for,  seeing  the  old  Witch, 
she  waved  her  hand,  and  when  the  old  woman 
returned  the  salutation,  nodded  her  head 
until  her  yellow  curls  fairly  jigged  to  and 
fro  with  the  readiness  and  heartiness  of  her 
response. 

Then  Jim  and  the  Witch  returned  to  their 
work,  forgetting  the  passage  of  time;  yes, 
and  even  to  eat,  so  great  was  their  interest 
and  enthusiasm. 

It  was  not  until  the  afternoon  was  waning 
that  the  old  woman  finally  looked  about  her 
and  exclaimed: 

"  Dark  coming  already,  Jim!  " 

Jim  straightened  himself  and  looked  up, 
too.  But  it  was  not  the  dark  coming.  The 
sun  was  shrouded  under  heavy  clouds,  and, 


The  Storm  269 

as  they  spoke,  a  chill  wind  swept  up  from  the 
ocean. 

* '  A  sea  change !  ' '  decided  the  Witch. 

They  went  into  the  house  and  there  found 
that  the  clock  marked  only  half -past  three. 

Now,  the  Witch  being  an  enthusiast,  her 
wish  to  finish  tying  up  her  shrubs  on  this 
very  day  was  supreme.  She  therefore  decided 
to  leave  Jim  with  John  o'  Partletts',  and  go 
down  to  Partlettsville  to  purchase  the  neces- 
sary heavy  twine ;  a  proceeding  which  should 
not  take  over  thirty  minutes. 

She  was  surprised,  when  she  opened  the 
kitchen  door,  at  the  rate  at  which  the  wind 
blew,  and  at  the  heavy,  steel-black  clouds 
which  were  piling  up  in  the  sky. 

It  was  cold,  too !  She  drew  her  old  mantle 
about  her  and  ,tied  her  red  headdress 
firmly. 

1 1  The  wind  has  changed !  Shut  the  house 
tight  and  keep  indoors,  Jim!  "  she  called 
back,  and  the  next  minute  had  reached  the 
top  of  the  hill  and  was  out  of  sight  over  its 
brow,  on  the  road  to  Partlettsville. 


270  John  o'  Partletts' 

She  walked  as  swiftly  as  she  might  with 
the  wind  in  her  face  and  pelting  her  at  every 
step;  but,  being  an  enthusiast,  and  a  very 
hardy  one,  she  had  not  the  slightest  notion 
of  turning  back. 

She  reached  Louisa  Myers'  little  store,  the 
only  one  in  Partlettsville  that  she  would 
enter,  for,  when  in  her  shop,  Louisa  was 
always  extremely  polite ;  the  thrifty  German 
allowed  neither  her  own  temper  nor  personal 
feeling  to  interfere  with  trade.  '  *  Shop  man- 
ners !  "  as  Kitty  Merryweather  said  disdain- 
fully ;  and  once  when  that  short-sighted  per- 
son had  advised  the  quarrelling  with,  and 
ejection  of,  a  certain  impertinent  customer, 
Louisa  had  replied  with  a  sage  shaking  of 
her  big  blond  head:  "  Oh,  yes,  quarrel! 
Push  her  out  of  der  shop !  All  very  well  for 
you  to  say,  but  mit  me  it  is  business  first  and 
pleasure  after!  " 

The  Witch  was,  therefore,  received  ur- 
banely, the  twine  bought,  and  a  little  con- 
versation thrown  in  for  good  measure. 

"  A  great  changement  in  the  weather!  " 


The  Storm  271 

remarked  Louisa.  "  And  all  der  children 
over  to  Abbottsville !  Mrs.  Sawrey's  twice 
been  down  the  road  looking  for  Evey,  but 
there's  no  expecting  dem  yet,  —  not  before 
half -past  five !  ' ' 

The  Witch  scarce  replied  —  she  wasted  no 
words  on  any  Partlettsvillite  —  and  turned 
to  open  the  door.  In  an  instant  she  had  all 
she  could  do  to  hold  it  in  her  hand,  for  the 
wind  whistled  in  a  gale,  and  Louisa  threw 
herself  over  her  counter  and  held  on  to  it  as 
if  she  were  afraid  it  would  blow  away. 

And  now,  back  up  to  Partletts',  this  time 
with  the  wind  behind.  But  before  she  had 
gone  ten  paces  it  was  doing  as  it  pleased  with 
her.  It  snatched  off  her  old  mantle  and 
whirled  it;  threw  her  partly  to  her  knees, 
and  when  she  recovered  and  staggered  for- 
ward again,  took  her  stout,  solid  form  and 
sent  it  running,  her  wide  blue  cotton  skirts 
spreading  about  her  like  sails.  Of  course  it 
did  not  occur  to  her  to  return  and  see  per- 
chance if  the  gale  would  pass  over,  —  her 
one  thought  was  to  get  back  to  the  cottage 


272  John  o'  Partletts' 

and  Jim.  It  was  not  until  she  was  half-way; 
up  the  hill  that  another  thought  came  to 
her. 

The  children !  If  she  could  scarcely  stand 
before  this,  how  were  they  to  face  it?  At 
the  thought  she  turned  her  own  face  toward 
it  for  a  moment. 

The  clouds  were  racing  up  toward  the 
middle  sky,  heavier  and  denser;  the  wind 
smelt  of  cold;  and,  on  the  instant,  stinging 
into  her  face,  came  hard,  icy  particles  of 
sleet.  She  shut  her  eyes  against  them,  and 
moved  forward.  This  was  no  passing  gale, 
but  a  storm! 

As  she  hurried  on  she  recalled  how  she  had 
seen  the  children  pass  in  the  sunshine  three 
hours  before,  lightly  clad.  They  would  have 
left  Abbottsville  half  an  hour  ago  now,  and 
be  on  their  road,  perhaps  just  ascending 
Partletts'. 

Ascending  Partletts'!  Why,  she  was  the 
only  person  who  knew  where  they  were! 
Who,  if  any  mischance  befell,  could  tell  of 
their  whereabouts!  For  well  she  divined 


The  Storm  273 

that  their  passing  over  Partletts'  was  a 
secret  kept  from  parents  and  friends. 

"  Oh,  that  they  may  go  by  the  high  road 
to-day!  "  she  thought. 

But  no !  Childlike,  thinking  it  the  quickest 
route,  they  would  be  more  likely  than  ever 
to  take  the  hill,  in  spite  of  its  greater  ex- 
posure. And  who  was  the  oldest,  supposedly 
most  responsible  one  among  them?  Willie 
Merryweather,  a  poltroon  and  coward! 

Before  she  had  reached  home  the  sleet  was 
like  a  veil,  blurring  familiar  objects  and  cov- 
ering the  ground  with  its  icy  particles,  ma- 
king the  walking  difficult.  But  she  did  not 
turn  in  at  her  cottage.  Passing  it,  and  gro- 
ping on,  her  head  covered  with  her  mantle, 
she  reached  the  barn,  caught  up  all  the  har- 
ness and  straps  that  had  belonged  with  her 
old  equipage,  and  then  made  her  way  back 
to  the  house. 

Jim  and  John  o'  Partletts'  were  in  the 
kitchen,  the  lamp  lighted,  for  though  it  was 
scarcely  five  o'clock  the  storm  had  brought 
with  it  black  darkness. 


274  John  o'  Partletts' 

The  instant  Jim  looked  at  the  old  woman's 
set,  white  face  and  blazing  eyes  he  knew  that 
something  more  than  the  elements  had  moved 
her.  But,  as  for  her,  she  looked  at  John  o' 
Partletts'  and: 

"  John  man,  I've  work  for  you  to  do!  " 
she  said  grimly. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   SEABCH 

THEN  she  sat  down  and  unwound  all  the 
twine,  which  she  doubled,  twisted,  and  bound 
with  as  strong  a  rope  as  possible,  cutting  up 
the  leather  harness  and  straps  to  supplement 
it;  afterwards  adding  all  the  rope  and  all 
the  strong  cloth  that  could  hastily  be  found 
about  the  house,  stripping  this  up  and  bind- 
ing it. 

Her  intentions  she  explained  to  Jim  in  a 
few  words,  and  when  her  arrangements  were 
ready  she  called  John  o'  Partletts'  and  fast- 
ened the  leather  portion  securely  about  his 
broad  chest  and  shoulders.  The  rope  she 
passed  once  around  her  own  waist ;  the  short 
end  was  attached  to  the  dog's  impromptu 
harness,  and  all  the  long  end,  of  many  yards, 
she  gathered  up  carefully  and  looped  over 
her  arm.  Then  lighting  two  lanterns,  one  of 

275 


276  John  o'  Partletts' 

which  she  tied  to  the  dog's  collar,  the  other 
to  the  rope  at  her  waist,  and  wrapping  her- 
self in  a  heavy  shawl,  which  she  securely 
pinned  and  tied,  she  was  ready  to  start. 

But  Jim,  who  had  silently  left  the  room 
a  few  moments  before,  now  reappeared 
swathed  in  all  his  winter  clothes,  and  with 
a  bright  red  comforter  which  he  had  taken 
off  his  bed,  wrapped  over  his  head  and  ears, 
and  fastened  about  his  small  person  with  the 
aid  of  a  mighty  number  of  safety-pins. 

The  Witch  looked  at  this  apparition 
sternly. 

"  Jim!  "  she  commanded,  "  take  off  those 
things !  You  are  not  going  out !  ' ' 

Then  Jim,  for  the  first  time,  rolling  his 
eyes,  looked  at  the  Witch  defiantly. 

"Mis'  Beevish,  I  is,"  he  declared.  "  Ef 
I  goes  out  wid  you-all  I  kin  stand  itl  But 
ef  you  leaves  me  here  alone  in  de  house  wid 
dis  here  storm  I  is  sure  die  ob  de  fright !  '  * 

The  Witch  being  a  person  to  whom  the 
sufferings  of  the  spirit  were  quite  as  pres- 
ent as  those  of  the  flesh,  said  not  another 


The  Search  277 

word.  She  quickly  untied  the  rope  about  her 
waist  and  put  the  boy  in  her  place,  tying  her- 
self behind  him,  thus  placing  him  in  the 
safest  position,  between  herself  and  the  great 
dog.  Then,  putting  out  the  lamp,  she  opened 
the  door. 

The  light  from  their  lanterns  shone  upon 
a  wild  slither  of  wind  and  snow.  John  o' 
Partletts'  raised  his  head,  sniffed  the  air, 
and  stepped  forward.  And  the  other  two  fol- 
lowed him  out  into  the  icy  blackness  of  the 
night. 

The  Witch  had  no  need  for  any  one  to 
point  her  way;  silently  she  took  it,  around 
the  curve  of  the  little  garden,  forward  for 
about  fifty  paces,  and  then  down  the  steep, 
narrow  wood-track  toward  the  Abbottsville 
turnpike. 

On  this  steep  space  she  expected  to  find 
the  children.  Confused  by  the  wind  and 
drifting  snow,  they  might  have  wandered  off 
the  direct  path;  in  that  case  she  trusted  to 
the  light  of  the  lanterns,  hallooing,  and  the 
sagacity  of  the  dog  to  find  them. 


278  John  o'  Partletts' 

And  all  this  while,  heard  by  her,  for  the 
wind  drove  straight  np  from  Partlettsville, 
came  the  harsh,  doleful  clang  of  iron  upon 
iron.  Down  there  they  were  organizing 
search  parties  and  calling  the  men  together, 
as  they  did  at  times  of  fire,  by  the  old-fash- 
ioned method  of  striking  upon  a  great  semi- 
circular iron  hoop  that  hung  in  the  main 
street  for  this  purpose.  She  knew  that  such 
parties  would  infallibly  go  along  the  high- 
road, therefore  they  could  not  possibly  con- 
nect with  the  children.  On  her  efforts  and 
those  of  John  o'  Partletts'  depended  their 
safety  —  perhaps  their  lives ! 

Each  moment  told  her  that  she  had  not 
exaggerated  the  danger.  The  wind  drove 
forward,  and  in  the  swirling  white  mist  she 
endeavored  vainly  to  keep  her  bearings.  But 
the  dog,  with  powerful  plunges,  went  on,  and 
in  the  dimness,  from  time  to  time,  some  fa- 
miliar form  of  rock  or  tree  told  her  that  they 
were  still  on  the  right  path. 

The  snow  was  drifting  heavily  now.  How 
they  were  to  return  through  it,  with  the  wind 


The  Search  279 

leaping  at  their  faces,  the  Witch  did  not 
know  —  but  still  they  struggled  on.  "  The 
children!  "  she  kept  reiterating;  "  the  chil- 
dren, John  man!  " 

Occasionally  she  would  pause,  halloo  aloud, 
and  wave  her  lantern,  but  its  light  shed  only 
a  feeble  ray  through  the  white  chaos,  and  her 
call,  the  moment  it  left  her  lips,  was  borne 
away  and  smothered  in  the  shrill  voice  of  the 
blast. 

The  thought  of  the  helpless  children  was 
so  strong  upon  her  that  she  groaned  aloud. 
' '  If  only  they  keep  together !  ' '  she  mur- 
mured. But  perhaps  already  they  were  a 
scattered  band,  each  battling  his  own  way. 
In  that  case,  what  suffering  and  helpless  be- 
wilderment for  the  weaker  ones!  Little 
Margy  Carruthers'  golden  head,  shaking  in 
merry,  friendly  salutation,  came  before  her; 
through  the  whirling  darkness  it  beckoned 
her  and  she  seemed  again  to  see  the  sweet, 
affectionate,  undimmed  eyes  looking  at  her 
beneath  the  curls:  "  No,  darling!  "  she  mut- 
tered, setting  her  teeth,  and  pushing  on; 


280  John  o'  Partletts' 

1 '  you  shall  not  suffer  here !    No,  lamb  —  no, 
you  shall  not  I ' ' 

In  the  meantime  a  furiously  driven  cart 
had  passed  along  the  high  road;  a  lantern 
waved  from  it,  and  voices  shouted.  In  it 
sat  Deacon  Sawrey,  pale,  huddled  up  in  the 
straw  that  had  been  hastily  thrown  into  it, 
and  silent.  And  with  him  were  others,  men 
and  women,  too.  They  also  were  pale,  and 
wore  expressions  more  and  more  distracted. 
Gus  Schaftsmire  was  driving,  his  services, 
horse,  and  wagon  having  been  hurriedly 
hired.  Along  the  road  they  rushed,  the  wind 
behind  them.  Two,  three  miles  were  trav- 
ersed, and  the  Abbottsville  church  reached. 
But  it  was  silent  —  not  a  light  gleamed. 
Into  the  town  of  Abbottsville,  then,  to  make 
inquiries;  at  last  to  find  a  responsible  per- 
son and  to  hear  that  the  children  had  left 
long  ago  —  an  hour  and  a  half  ago,  when  it 
seemed  that  the  storm  was  but  a  passing 
gust.  And  they  had  gone  along  the  road  to 
Partlettsville ;  they  had  been  seen  to  start 


The  Search  281 

—  they  must  be  along  that  road  somewhere, 
now! 

Back  again  then,  more  slowly,  and  with 
more  frequent  shouting,  with  more  distracted 
faces,  and  alarm  increasing.  How  they  could 
have  missed  their  way  upon  the  highroad 
was  a  mystery.  It  was  lonely,  bordered  by 
fields  and  orchards,  but  walls  and  fences 
marked  the  length  of  it.  The  dreadful  cer- 
tainty that,  in  spite  of  this,  the  children  had 
wandered  off  somehow,  became  more  and 
more  apparent.  They  gazed  into  the  white 
chaos  about  them,  patiently  raising  the  lan- 
tern at  every  step,  and  shouting;  but  noth- 
ing was  revealed  —  no  answer  came. 

Now  an  approaching  light  flashed,  accom- 
panied by  the  jingle  of  sleigh-bells,  and 
strained,  anxious  voices  cried  out  for  the 
news. 

This  was  a  fresh  party  just  starting  out 
from  Partlettsville,  where  nothing  had  been 
heard,  and  not  a  child  had  arrived.  In  the 
front  seat,  driving  the  pair  of  horses,  sit- 
ting very  erect,  his  pale  but  determined  face 


282  John  o'  Partletts' 

looking  boldly  out  into  the  night,  was  Henry 
Carruthers  himself.  He  had  left  a  home  des- 
olate and  silent  enough,  —  every  one  of  his 
eight  children  was  out  of  it !  His  eyes  flashed 
through  the  darkness,  as  he  asked  the  curt 
question : 

"  Nothing  heard!  " 

"Nothing,  sir!"  cried  out  Gus  Schafts- 
mire.  The  big  horses  felt  the  whip,  and  the 
sleigh  shot  out  of  sight. 

Deacon  Sawrey  stood  up  in  the  back  of  the 
cart,  crying: 

"  Turn,  follow  him!  " 

And  Gus  silently  turned  his  horse's  head 
again,  and  sped  after  the  sound  of  the  bells. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

THE   BESCTJE 

As  they  rushed,  in  a  kind  of  hopeless  haste, 
through  the  whirling  darkness,  listening  to 
the  noisy  bells  in  front,  suddenly  the  sound 
of  those  bells  ceased  with  a  vehement  jingle 
as  the  horses  threw  back  their  heads,  being 
brought  to  a  sudden  stop. 

Across  a  narrow,  steep  chasm,  from  a  little 
hut  on  the  far  side,  a  voice  hailed  them.  It 
was  hoarse  and  harsh  as  it  sounded  through 
the  driving  wind;  it  was  echoed  by  a  deep, 
bellowing  bark,  and  the  next  instant,  from 
out  the  hut,  dimly  seen  through  the  white 
mist,  came  the  gleam  of  a  lantern. 

"  Who  are  you?  -What  do  you  wish?  " 
Henry  Carruthers's  clear,  strong  voice 
sounded  across  the  little  stream  that  ran 
between  the  steep  banks,  separating  them, 

283 


284  John  o'  Partletts' 

and  he  sprang  out  of  the  sleigh,  holding  the 
reins  in  his  hand,  as  he  stood  on  the  bank, 
waiting  for  the  answer.  It  came : 

"  Cross  the  bridge!  Come  over!  Your 
children  are  here !  ' ' 

In  that  moment  of  relief  no  one  paused 
even  to  speak. 

In  a  breath  every  one  was  out  of  the  two 
vehicles,  and  the  horses  were  tied.  The  little 
bridge  stood  two  paces  beyond,  crossing  the 
stream  which  ran  at  the  base  of  Partletts'. 
The  moment  they  had  crossed  it  the  wind 
seemed  to  cease ;  the  big  hill  sheltered  them. 
The  wild  storm  whirled  over  the  highroad, 
but  here  was  comparative  peace.  And  there, 
in  the  little  hut  before  them,  stood  a  figure 
holding  a  lantern  aloft,  a  great,  burly  head 
pushed  out  beside  it  coated  with  snow,  a 
strange  little  form,  swathed  in  a  bright,  red 
counterpane  which  had  come  unloosed  and 
was  hanging  bedraggled,  leaned,  panting  in- 
side the  doorway ;  and  beyond  were  faces,  — 
a  group  of  small,  pinched  faces,  wild-eyed 
and  pale. 


The  Rescue  285 

Then  came  cries  of  joy  and  of  recognition. 
The  children  ran  out  of  the  hut,  and  the 
anxious  searchers  each  looked  for  the  face 
so  dear,  that  they  had  believed  lost. 

And  none  looked  in  vain;  all  were  here! 
Kitty  Merryweather,  her  Maggie  under  one 
arm,  and  her  Willie's  red  head  clasped  to 
her  breast,  shed  the  most  grateful  tears  of 
her  life;  and  Willie,  all  the  hypocrite  and 
bully  shocked  out  of  him,  threw  his  arms 
about  her  neck,  and  clung  there,  crying: 

"  Oh,  Mother  I  Mother!  " 

After  came  the  explanations,  how  the 
Witch,  or,  rather,  John  o'  Partletts', —  for 
she  had  left  all  to  his  sagacity,  only  follow- 
ing him,  —  had  found  them  crouched  behind 
a  boulder,  slightly  protected  by  it,  but  in  the 
very  path  of  the  storm,  beaten  by  it,  while 
the  drift  rose  ever  higher  about  them,  afraid 
to  venture  on,  forgetting  in  the  blackness  and 
cold  even  the  point  in  the  path  they  had 
reached  and  not  knowing  which  way  to  turn. 
How  she  had  tied  them  all  firmly  into  her 
long  rope,  and  putting  the  dog  in  front,  and 


286  John  o'  Partletts' 

herself  in  the  rear,  had  kept  them  all  to- 
gether, and  brought  them  here ;  for  she  had 
remembered  this  little  abandoned  hut  by  the 
stream,  and  knowing  they  could  never  reach 
her  cottage  on  the  top  of  Partletts'  had  felt 
that,  if  necessary,  they  could  endure  here 
through  the  night. 

But  her  strongest  hope  had  been  through 
all  that  some  searching  party  would  find 
them;  and  so  it  had  come  about. 

Then  there  was  wonder  how  the  children 
could  so  have  lost  their  way  upon  the  turn- 
pike, and  wandered  up  to  Partletts' !  It  was 
no  time  for  deception  of  any  sort.  The  truth 
was  instantly  blurted  out.  They  always  went 
that  way!  Indeed,  they  knew  it  was  very 
wrong  —  but  it  had  become  their  regular 
route ! 

If  it  was  the  time  for  confession  it  was  the 
time  also  for  ready  forgiveness.  And  per- 
haps it  can  be  understood  that  there  was  no 
relaxing  of  the  affectionate  embraces  that 
clasped  these  too  venturesome  wanderers. 

But  one  face  here  changed  at  this  revela 


The  Rescue  287 

tion.  As  they  stood  in  a  close  group,  shel- 
tered from  the  storm,  on  the  one  side  by  the 
hut,  on  the  other  by  the  great  hill,  with  the 
light  of  the  lanterns  full  upon  their  faces, 
something  unwonted  and  gentle  could  be  seen 
to  pass  from  Henry  Carruthers '  eyes ;  their 
stern,  smouldering  look  returned,  while  they 
slowly  and  definitely  sought  those  of  his  eld- 
est son.  The  boy,  guilty  and  conscious,  was 
already  looking  at  his  father's  face,  and,  in 
the  midst  of  all  the  tenderness  and  affection 
that  was  surrounding  them,  their  eyes  met 
with  a  kind  of  shock. 

4 '  You  have  disobeyed  me  1  "  commented 
the  man. 

"  Yes,  father,"  said  the  panting  boy;  "  I 
know  I  have!  But  all  went  the  other  way, 
and  I  —  we  did  not  want  to  go  alone  by  the 
lower  road." 

"  You  have  been  deliberately  disobeying 
me  for  months,"  came  the  steady,  implacable 
voice.  "  You  are  older  than  your  brothers 
and  sisters  and  I  shall  hold  you  responsi- 
ble I  "  His  lips  slightly  tightened,  and  the 


288  John  o'  Partletts' 

boy's  face,  already  pale,  turned  a  shade 
whiter. 

There  was  no  question,  of  course,  of  the 
minister  punishing  the  child  here,  but  his 
face,  and  the  look  the  two  exchanged,  spoke 
eloquently  of  what  would  come  hereafter. 

After  that  short  dialogue,  which  was  dis- 
tinctly spoken  and  heard  by  all,  a  dead  si- 
lence fell. 

But  only  for  a  moment.  For  the  next  it 
was  broken  by  a  short,  piercing  scream. 

Little  Margy  Carruthers  had  been  stand- 
ing beside  her  brother  and  he  had  held  her 
hand  in  his,  but  when  he  turned  to  speak  to 
his  father  he  unconsciously  released  the  lit- 
tle fingers,  and  the  child,  seeing  her  father's 
stern  glance  bent  upon  them,  stepped  back 
without  looking  behind.  She  was  near  the 
edge  of  the  steep  bank ;  in  an  instant  she  had 
gone  over  it,  down  twelve,  fifteen  feet  to  the 
stream  below;  the  ice,  weakened  by  the 
warmth  of  the  preceding  day,  cracked,  gave 
way;  —  the  bright,  golden  head  showed  for 


The  Rescue  289 

an  instant  against  the  black  water,  and  then, 
carried  on  the  stream  by  its  swift  flow,  dis- 
appeared beneath  the  yet  unbroken  ice  fur- 
ther down. 

In  the  cry  of  terror  that  followed  and  the 
frightened  rush  to  the  edge  of  the  bank  the 
minister  was  before  all.  No  one  had  ever 
impugned  his  courage,  and  he  intended  to 
take  that  leap,  though  he  could  swim  but  lit- 
tle. Only,  for  a  moment,  he  paused,  raising 
his  lantern  high,  glancing  along  the  bridge 
for  the  best  spot  for  springing  off. 

But  there  was  one  among  them  who  neither 
hesitated  nor  paused.  Before  Henry  Car- 
ruthers  could  draw  himself  together,  before 
the  first  cry  of  surprise  and  terror  had  died 
away,  there  was  a  rush,  a  great  form  sprang 
outward  from  the  bank,  for  an  instant  it 
seemed  almost  to  hang  in  the  air,  and  then 
it  descended ;  there  was  a  splash,  a  churning 
up  of  the  black  water,  and  John  o'  Partletts* 
head  arose,  glistening  in  almost  the  very 
spot  where  the  little  girl's  golden  curls  had 
disappeared  a  moment  before. 


290  John  o'  Partletts* 

Then  began  a  struggle  which  none  who  saw 
ever  forgot. 

The  dog  began  to  work  and  fight  his  way 
along  the  stream,  smashing  the  ice  with  pow- 
erful strokes  of  his  fore-feet,  sometimes  al- 
most lying  over  it  in  order  to  keep  himself 
from  being  borne  under  it  by  the  swirling, 
rushing  water.  The  stream,  a  mere  runlet 
all  Winter,  was  now  swollen,  the  effect  of 
the  past  few  hours  of  thaw  being  to  send  the 
water  rushing  into  it  from  all  its  sources 
with  a  vehemence  that  bore  the  great  dog's 
body  forward  swiftly,  threatening  every  mo- 
ment to  rush  it  into  the  darkness  and  silence 
under  that  veil  of  ice  where  the  child  was 
already  gone. 

No  man,  however  strong  of  body,  however 
powerful  of  will,  could  have  done  what  the 
great  beast  was  doing  now  —  smash  a  track 
for  himself  —  with  that  pitiless  current  tear- 
ing at  him.  But  the  dog  struck  and  battered 
with  bleeding  paws,  and,  after  each  effort, 
flung  his  head  upward  with  tremendous 
strength. 


The  Rescue  391 

All  along  the  bank  a  score  of  lanterns 
moved  in  company  with  his  progress,  shed- 
ding their  light  down  into  that  cavern  of 
darkness.  Voices  were  hushed,  only  an  awe- 
struck whisper,  or  exclamation,  could  be 
heard  now  and  then;  but  every  eye  was 
strained  for  a  glimpse  of  that  huge,  fear- 
some, glistening  head,  as  if  the  very  world 
hung  upon  its  movements. 

Henry  Carruthers,  seeing  the  animal 
struggling  desperately  in  the  black  water, 
in  search  of  his  lost  child,  would  have  sprung 
after  to  aid  him,  utterly  futile  though  such 
an  effort  must  have  been,  but  a  strong,  de- 
taining hand  was  laid  on  him. 

11  What  can  you  do!  Stand  back."  It 
was  the  Witch's  voice,  and  it  continued, 
full  of  its  accustomed  vehemence  and  feel- 
ing: 

'  '  Just  now,  you  thought  only  of  punishing 
your  son!  If  you  had  taken  your  daughter 
into  your  arms  instead  this  would  not  have 
happened!  "  The  hand  held  him,  and  the 
unsparing  voice  went  on : 


John  o'  Partletts' 


"  When  you  go  to  her  who  left  them  to 
you,  account  to  her  for  this !  ' ' 

It  was  a  terrible  taunt  to  throw  at  him  at 
such  a  moment!  The  man's  white  face  grew 
whiter ;  he  looked  at  her  as  if  she  had  struck 
a  blow  straight  to  his  heart,  and  he  slightly 
staggered  and  leaned  against  the  doorway  of 
the  little  hut,  covering  his  face  with  his 
hands,  and  behind  those  sheltering  hands  he 
whispered  passionately : 

"Oh,  God!    Oh.  my  God!" 

At  that  instant  there  was  a  cry. 

The  dog  had  disappeared.  His  whole  body 
had  gone  down,  out  of  sight  beneath  the  piti- 
less covering  of  ice  near  the  bank.  A  few 
breathless  seconds  and  the  black  waters  were 
churning  again.  They  thought  that,  ex- 
hausted, he  had  been  submerged ;  but  he  had 
dived,  and  now  his  great  head  reared,  and 
in  his  mouth  he  bore  the  little  figure,  which 
he  had  torn  out  from  among  clutching  roots 
and  branches. 

There  was  another  cry;  this  time  of  hope 


"  '  ONE   MORE   STROKE,    OLD   MAN!    BRING   HER    IN.' 


The  Rescue  S93 

and  encouragement.  A  score  of  hands 
reached  out;  a  score  of  voices,  loosed  from 
the  silence  and  anguish  of  suspense,  shouted ; 
and  Gus  Schaftsmire,  stretching  out  over  the 
dark  water  while  the  animal,  burdened  by  the 
weight  of  the  child,  made  painfully  toward 
the  bank,  was  crying  out : 

"  One  more  stroke,  old  man!  Bring  her 
in!  " 

Then  he  burst  into  a  shout  of  frenzied 
enthusiasm,  for  the  rough  head  was  under 
his  hand,  the  snorting  nostrils  in  his  face. 

It  seemed  as  if  nothing  so  fragile  and  deli- 
cate could  come  alive  out  of  that  black  death- 
water.  But  the  child  lived !  She  lay  breath- 
ing in  her  father's  arms,  her  drenched, 
golden  hair  scattered  over  his  shoulder. 
They  snatched  her  from  him  to  take  her  into 
the  shelter  of  the  hut,  but  he  had  felt  her 
stir,  had  seen  the  flicker  of  life  pass  over  her 
closed  lids  and  with  a  bursting  heart  and  all 
unnerved  he  dropped  upon  his  knees. 

John  o'  Partletts'  walked  over  to  the  old 
woman.  She  looked  into  his  eyes  with  the 


294  John  o'  Partletts' 

words:  "  Ah,  John  man!  "  That  was  all, 
but  how  intensely  spoken!  And  they  re- 
mained, drawn  apart  from  the  others,  ignor- 
ing their  applause,  alone,  as  they  had  always 
been,  and  wished  to  be. 

The  minister's  voice  broke  a  long  silence. 
In  trembling  tones  he  spoke  broken  words  of 
thanks.  All  took  them  up. 

But  the  old  woman  appeared  not  to  hear. 
Picking  up  her  harness  and  long  rope,  she 
began  looping  them  over  her  arm,  her  hawk 
face  set  and  half  averted. 

"  You  have  given  me  back  all  that  I  prize 
on  earth!  "  It  was  Henry  Carruthers's 
voice,  speaking  in  tones  lower,  less  confident 
than  had  ever  been  heard  before;  "  I  do 
thank  you,  —  I  —  " 

But  she  turned  and  stopped  him. 

"  What  are  you  thanking  me  for?  "  she 
cried  out  proudly.  "  Your  child  has  been 
saved  from  a  terrible  death  because  there 
was  just  one  creature  here  that  had  the 
strength  and  the  ability  —  and,  more  than 
that  —  the  courage  and  the  heart  to  do  it! 


The  Rescue  295 

That  was  not  I  —  it  was  no  man  nor  woman 
among  us !  "  She  pointed  to  the  panting  dog 
beside  her,  and  threw  back  her  head  with  a 
vehement  gesture  of  something  like  triumph. 
' '  It  was  the  soulless  brute !  It  is  to  him  that 
you  owe  all !  M 

He  met  her  meaning  glance,  and  in  his 
eyes,  slowly,  painfully,  dawned  a  look  of 
humility. 

"  Yes,"  he  admitted  in  a  broken  voice,  "  it 
is  true!  I  owe  it  to  him!  " 

"  Then,"  said  the  Witch,  advancing 
toward  him,  her  eyes  flashing,  while  the  man 
looked  up  at  her  as  she  held  her  lantern 
above  his  white  face,  for  he  still  kneeled  in 
the  snow, ' '  if  you  admit  that,  you  admit  that 
what  you  despised  has  saved  you!  What 
you  thought  too  low  and  contemptible  even 
for  pity  has  been  the  instrument  chosen  to 
help  you  in  your  hour  of  greatest  need !  Let 
that  teach  you  that  God  is  mighty  in  His  use 
of  everything  that  He  has  made!  God  has 
made  everything,  —  but  His  world  is  going 
on  about  you;  His  world  of  beauty,  love, 


296  John  o'  Partletts' 

feeling,  that  has  not  even  reached  you !  You 
are  blind  —  yet  you  have  never  doubted  your 
own  vision!  Doubt  it  now,  Henry  Carru- 
thers!  I  told  you  once  before,  and  I  say  it 
to  you  now  again:  Open  your  heart!  Open 
your  eyes!  Look  about  you!  " 

And  thus,  before  his  own  congregation, 
having  lectured  the  kneeling  minister,  the 
old  woman  turned,  adjusted  her  headdress, 
and  began  arranging  the  rope  about  her 
waist.  Voices  vainly  urged  her  to  return  to 
Partlettsville ;  not  to  attempt  the  bitter  trip 
up  the  hill,  alone. 

"  No!  "  she  replied,  indomitably;  "  as  we 
came,  we  will  go!  " 

She  adjusted  the  dog's  harness,  tied  little 
Jim  before  her,  and,  as  the  three  turned  to 
face  the  heavy  blast,  a  broken,  timid  woman's 
voice  whispered : 

"God  bless  you,  Ma'm,  —  an*  your 
dog!" 

Two  hours  later  Henry  Carmthers  sat 
alone  in  his  study.  The  lamp  burned  low 


The  Rescue  297 

and  a  new-lit  fire  sparkled  in  the  grate.  He 
sat  with  his  face  in  his  hands,  motionless. 
He  seemed  to  hear  a  voice  repeating: 
* '  Beauty  —  Love  —  Feeling !  ' '  He  seemed 
to  see  the  face  of  his  dead  wife,  tender  and 
charming.  How  often  he  had  quenched  the 
smile  there!  How  often  his  stern  precepts 
had  over-ridden  and  smothered  her  expres- 
sions of  love  and  gentleness  1  And  how  had 
it  come  about?  He  had  not  meant  it  to  be  so. 
Early  in  his  life  he  had  not  been  so.  But 
rigidity  and  an  unyielding  sternness  had  so 
grown  upon  him  that  he  was  like  a  man  of 
iron,  and  could  neither  smile  nor  bend.  The 
hard  thing  had  grown  to  seem  to  him,  with- 
out examination,  the  right  thing;  the  harsh 
action,  inevitable;  the  gloomy,  dark  path, 
the  only  true  one !  And  all  the  while  that  he 
had  suffered,  closing  himself  into  this  iron 
armor,  those  about  him  had  suffered,  tool 

Tears  fell  from  his  eyes  and  flowed 
through  his  fingers.  Love!  Beauty!  Feel- 
ing! How  had  his  married  life  slipped  by, 
joyless,  like  dry  dust  and  ashes,  with  no 


298  John  o'  Partletts' 

sparkle,  no  sunshine  1  And  now,  to  awaken 
to  the  wrong  of  it,  after  she  was  gone  —  too 
late!  He  wrung  his  hands,  and  that  bitter 
thought  —  the  bitterest  in  the  world :  * '  Life, 
love,  how  have  you  escaped  me!  "  wrung  his 
heart.  He  bowed  his  head  with  a  redeeming 
meekness,  a  redeeming,  self-searching  sor- 
row, and  let  the  tears  flow. 

They  flowed  warm,  breaking  down  hard- 
ness, encrusted  self-esteem  and  resolute  self- 
repression.  And  at  last,  when  he  raised  his 
head,  they  still  filled  his  eyes. 

Too  late !  Too  late !  But  no.  Those  warm 
tears  had  already  washed  away  the  bitter 
sorrow  of  that  thought!  Thank  God,  it  was 
not  too  late!  He  was  still,  comparatively,  a 
young  man !  He  still  had  his  children  —  her 
children  —  their  lives  in  his  keeping. 

He  rose,  drew  a  deep  breath,  then  walking 
to  the  hall  door,  threw  it  open,  and  called  his 
son's  name. 

The  boy,  sitting  over  his  untasted  supper, 
waiting  this  call,  started  as  if  an  electric 


299 

shock  had  passed  through  him.  He  walked 
through  the  hall  and  stood  in  the  study  door. 

rThe  room  before  him  was  associated  with 
nothing  but  humiliations.  He  had  always 
entered  it  with  a  beating  heart  and  left  it 
with  a  heavy  and  bitter  one. 

But  it  was  a  pleasant  enough  room  in  it- 
self,  especially  to-night,  with  the  bright  fire- 
light dancing  over  it.  But  he  saw  none  of 
its  brightness;  he  saw  only  the  tall  figure 
before  the  fire. 

Suddenly  his  father  turned,  and  there  was 
a  look  so  gentle  and  so  deeply  softened  on 
his  face  that  the  boy,  with  the  quickness  of 
a  sensitive  child,  dropped  his  eyes.  He  felt 
that  he  had  inadvertently  surprised  that  look 
upon  his  father's  face.  That  look  could  not 
be  intended  for  him  I 

But  "it  was  for  him!  An  arm  drew  him 
into  the  bright  circle  of  the  firelight  and  he 
heard  a  voice  saying : 

"  I  think  we  can  understand  each  other 
better  than  we  have  done;  at  any  rate,  we 
are  going  to  try." 


800  John  o'  Partletts' 

And  then  his  father  was  holding  him 
closer,  and  saying: 

"My  dear  boy,  I  love  you  dearly — I 
never  knew  how  dearly  until  to-night!  I 
want  you  to  try  to  love  and  trust  me." 

And  when  the  boy  felt  a  kind  hand  press- 
ing his  cheek,  heard  the  kind  voice  in  his  ear, 
a  thousand  memories  of  his  mother,  of  her 
gentleness  and  love,  came  over  him,  and  with 
all  the  impulsiveness  of  an  affectionate,  but 
pent  up  nature,  he  threw  his  arms  around 
his  father 's  neck,  and  dropping  his  head  upon 
his  shoulder,  wept  there,  for  the  first  time  in 
his  life,  unashamed,  and  unafraid. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

PABTLETTS'   AT  PEACE 

IN  Partlettsville,  during  the  next  few  days, 
a  quiet  prevailed  that  was  something  like 
awe. 

A  paper  was  silently  passed  around  and  as 
silently  signed.  It  was  to  be  sent  across  the 
water  to  the  heirs  of  Partletts ',  contradicting 
a  former  one,  and  requesting  that  the  present 
inhabitant  of  the  hill  be  left  there  unmo- 
lested. 

On  the  following  Sunday,  when  the  min- 
ister stood  in  the  pulpit,  he  spoke  of  a  debt 
of  gratitude,  undying,  to  one  near  at  hand. 
His  eyes  sought,  through  the  open  window, 
the  hillof  Partletts',  shining  green  in  sweet 
beauty  under  the  renewing  touch  of  Spring; 
and  those  who  listened  heard,  for  the  first 
time,  a  tremor  in  his  clear,  steady  voice,  and 
saw  the  glitter  of  tears  in  his  eyes. 

301 


302  John  o'  Partletts' 

That  night  at  the  Rectory  a  letter  was 
sealed  and  directed  to  a  great  orphan  asy- 
lum, at  the  far  end  of  the  state,  stating  that 
the  child  for  whom  a  home  there  was  nego- 
tiating, would  remain  undisturbed  where  he 
was. 

"Hie  child  was  little  Jim,  who  lay,  at  this 
time,  inert  in  the  Witch's  cottage.  That 
night  of  adventure  and  bitter  exposure  had 
overtaxed  his  frail  strength.  He  weakened 
rapidly,  and  the  Witch  sat  beside  him,  watch- 
ing his  difficult  breathing. 

She  sat  striving  to  subdue  the  fear  in  her 
heart  that  the  delicate  child  was  leaving  her 
for  no  earthly  home ;  striving  to  console  her- 
self with  the  recollection  that  his  last  year, 
though  separated  from  his  old  home  and  his 
own  people,  had  been  a  happy  one ;  and  with 
the  thought  that,  if  death  came  to  him,  he  had 
found  it  in  an  effort  to  save  others. 

Quiet,  therefore,  and  with  what  resigna- 
tion she  could  summon,  the  grim  old  woman 
sat  beside  the  child  in  the  still,  spring  after- 
noon. The  lisp  of  the  brook  running  gently 


Partletts'  at  Peace  303 

at  the  foot  of  Partletts',  the  faint  creak  of 
the  boughs  of  trees  about  Jim's  own  garden, 
stirring  in  the  light  breeze,  came  in  at  the 
open  window ;  but  the  only  sounds  she  heard 
were  the  child's  painful  breathing  and  his 
half-wandering  words.  His  little,  dark  face, 
with  its  strange  expression  of  half-fright, 
half -wonder,  as  if  he  were  already  far  from 
her,  faring  forth  alone  to  some  unknown 
country,  kept  her  heart  beating  unevenly. 
Once  she  rose,  —  the  breathing  came  so  softly 
she  feared  that  it  had  ceased.  But  no,  the 
lips  were  murmuring,  and  then  a  quavering 
little  voice  began  to  chant: 

"01' Mis'iscallinM 
01'  Mis'  is  callinM 
Ol'  Mis'  is  callin'  me! " 

It  grew  weaker,  died  away,  a  faint  smile 
closing  the  lips. 

Long  the  Witch  sat,  her  hands  over  her 
face,  the  great  dog  at  her  feet  still,  beside 
her.  She  dared  not  look  at  the  small,  meagre 
body  on  the  bed  lest  she  should  see  that  a 


304  John  o'  Partletts' 

very  good,  loyal  little  soul  was  passing  away 
—  "  over  'cross  Jordan —  " 

Tlie  minutes  ticked  on  and  on;  the  dog, 
drawing  himself  closer,  laid  his  great  head 
against  her  skirt,  his  little  eyes  raised  in 
sympathy  —  the  hrook  of  Partletts '  wandered 
on  to  its  unceasing  tune,  the  soft  breeze 
stirred,  —  and  then  suddenly  from  the  bright 
western  sky  the  setting  sun  shot  a  red  gold 
beam  through  the  window,  flooding  the  room. 
It  passed  its  glorious  touch  over  the  child's 
closed  eyes. 

Suddenly  Jim  moved;  he  raised  himself, 
and  the  light  from  the  bright,  western  sky 
flooded  over  his  whole  face  and  form.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  this  splendid  light  was 
shining  through  the  glistening  leaves  and 
over  the  yellow  fruit  of  the  big  orange  trees ; 
he  smelled  the  orange  flowers,  and  then,  sud- 
denly, his  eyes  widened,  the  strange  far-away 
look  faded  out  of  them  as  they  rested  on  the 
Witch,  who  had  risen  to  her  feet,  with  John 
o'  Partletts'. 

He  knew  them !    He  reached  forth  a  small, 


Partletts'  at  Peace  305 

claw-like  hand,  and  a  deep,  slow  voice,  with 
the  old,  queer  little  quaver  of  cheeriness  in 
it,  was  saying: 

"  Mis'  Beevish  —  I'se  been  a-driftinr, 
seems  like,  —  a-driftin'  fur !  But  I  dun  come 
home  to  yo' !  Mis'  Beevish  —  Marse  Johnny! 
I  dun  come  home  to  yo',  sure  I  " 

All  this  happened  many  years  ago,  and 
very  peacefully,  very  beautifully  has  Part- 
letts '  spread  its  slope  toward  the  sun  during 
the  seasons  that  followed,  and  very  plain, 
grim,  and  colorless  has  stood  Partlettsville 
at  its  foot.  The  little  stream  tinkles  past  as 
in  days  gone  by,  and  the  aged  willow  trees 
stand  whipped,  topped,  and  bent  down  like 
old  men,  —  ancient  and  weary  sentinels. 

But  down  the  slope,  passing  under  the 
grim,  old  trees,  and  into  the  town,  little 
Jim  has  learned  to  come  with  a  confident 
heart. 

"  Little  "  Jim  no  longer,  however.  He  is 
known  through  the  countryside  as  Jimmy, 
for  though  he  has  grown  taller  and  broader, 


306  John  o'  Partletts' 

and  is,  in  fact,  become  quite  a  self-reliant  and 
sizable  person,  there  is  still  something  droll, 
something  akin  to  ehildlikeness  about  the 
dark  face,  —  there  is  indeed  such  a  general 
readiness  about  it  to  show  the  whites  of  the 
eyes  and  two  rows  of  white  teeth  in  the 
peculiarly  ready  and  humorous  smile  of  his 
race  that  one  would  scarcely  be  likely  to 
address  him  formally  as  Jim. 

As  Jimmy,  then,  he  goes.  Sometimes  as 
"Jimmy  o'  Partletts';  "  sometimes  as 
"  Mis'  Beevish's  Jimmy." 

Should  you  chance  to  wander  into  this 
corner  of  the  world  you  might  meet  him 
almost  any  day,  driving  a  light  spring  wagon, 
painted  green,  drawn  by  a  sleek  horse,  and 
plentifully  filled  with  a  supply  of  neatly  ar- 
ranged, fresh  vegetables.  Which  horse  and 
wagon  —  presented  to  him  by  none  other 
than  the  Partlettsville  folk,  when  Jim  during 
the  years  that  have  slipped  by  began  a  mod- 
est enterprise  of  his  own  in  the  way  of 
"truck  g-yardenin'  "  —  are  his  pride  and 
joy. 


Partletts'  at  Peace  307 

And  such  a  spot  has  become  that  truck 
garden!  The  Witch,  Jimmy,  and  the  sunny 
slope  of  Partletts'  forming  a  famous  com- 
bination, so  that  "  Partletts'  Farm  "  has 
become  a  name  almost  of  wonder;  and 
Jimmy  drives  his  sleek  horse,  which  wears 
the  gayest  red  tassels  bobbing  from  its  har- 
ness, and  his  green  wagon,  over  the  whole 
countryside  to  the  old  southern  darkey-ped- 
dling tune  of : 

"  Sweet  corn  an'  termaters  gwine  by! 
All  fresh  an'  fine,  ladies! 
Jes'  from  de  vine,  ladies! 
All  fresh  an'  fine!  " 

!AJad  down  in  Partlettsville  trade  is  brisk; 
from  the  Rectory,  where  old  Elsa  oversees 
the  buying  with  shrewd,  just  eye,  to  Kitty 
Merry  weather's,  at  the  end  of  the  high 
street,  where  Louisa  Myers  also  steps  out 
of  her  shop  to  stand,  chatting  and  bargain- 
ing. 

"  Them's  fine  cabbage  fo'yo',  Kitty!  Big 
as  my  head!  "  she  remarks,  selecting  and 


308  John  o'  Partletts' 

turning  in  her  large  hands  her  chosen  vege- 
table. 

And  Kitty's  shrill  voice  pipes : 

"  An'  them  termaters  —  ripe  on  both  sides, 
so  early!  Jus'  fine!  An'  good-lookin'  white 
onions  yo'  got  there,  Jimmy!  My  Willie's 
favorite  dish!  Ain't  it  a  crime  his  not  bein' 
here  to  enjoy  it!  " 

For  Willie,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  betook 
him  to  a  life  upon  the  high  seas,  where,  ac- 
cording to  his  mother,  he  has  become  '  *  a  fine 
sailor  lad!  "  He  has  passed  out  of  our  ken, 
let  us  therefore  hopefully  accept  such  ac- 
claim as  impartial  truth. 

At  any  rate,  a  very  trim,  pretty,  and  gentle 
maiden  is  Maggie,  as  she  stands,  slightly 
shaking  her  head  in  disapproval  of  her 
mother's  too  ready  acceptance  of  all  things 
extra  in  the  way  of  "  good  measure,"  which 
Jimmy  is  prone  to  "  throw  in,"  just  as,  in 
the  old  days,  his  Grandmammy  did,  before 
him. 

Thus,  on  his  rounds,  passes  Jim;  on  to 
Deacon  Sawrey's,  to  Michaelsons',  the 


Partletts'  at  Peace  309 

Schaf tsmires ',  and  still  further  until  he  ar- 
rives at  Abbottsville,  where  Mr.  Finn,  much 
greyer  than  formerly,  but  as  kindly  and 
polite,  usually  "  cleans  out  "  what  remains 
in  his  wagon. 

Then  home  again,  along  the  Abbottsville 
turnpike,  which  is  just  as  of  yore  with  its 
orchards  and  stone  walls,  cheerily  jingling 
the  money  in  his  pockets,  whistling  and  ad- 
dressing frequent  conversational  remarks  to 
the  alert,  brown  ears  of  his  horse,  who,  in 
compliment  to  an  old  friend,  bears  the  name 
of  Job  Junior. 

And  now,  walking  along  the  ridge  of  Part- 
letts', you  might  chance  at  any  time  to  come 
upon  the  figure  of  an  old  woman,  moving 
about  the  hill,  slightly  bent,  evidently  age- 
ing, but  with  a  vital  look  about  her;  and 
in  her  hawk-like  features  something  serene, 
softened,  and  gentle,  which  would  inevitably 
draw  after  her  a  second,  wondering  glance. 
And  just  as  inevitably,  somewhere  in  her 
vicinity,  you  will  come  upon  a  great  beast 


310  John  o'  Partletts' 

of  a  dog  with  earless  head  and  scowling  vis- 
age and  legs  stiffening  with  rheumatism, 
who,  at  sight  of  an  intruder,  pauses,  glancing 
him  over  with  quick,  fierce  little  eyes,  over 
which  the  dimness  of  age  is  beginning  to 
draw  its  shadow,  and  then,  lowering  his  great 
head,  moves  laboriously  after  her  whom  he 
follows. 

And  did  you  but  know  it,  as  you  turn, 
watching  him,  you  are  looking  after  one  who 
has  had  his  share,  and  no  small  one,  in 
making  part  of  the  history  of  this  little  cor- 
ner of  the  world  —  John  o'  Partletts M 

Down  in  Partlettsville,  should  you  wish  to 
gratify  a  nameless  curiosity  concerning  this 
strange  pair  and  ask  about  the  solitary 
woman  up  on  the  hill,  you  would  be  struck 
by  the  peculiar  tone  in  which  would  be  given 
the  immediate  reply: 

"  That?  —  that  there  is  our  old  woman!  " 

"  And  the  wild-looking  beast?  " 

11  That's  her  dog,  sir.    You'll  find  not  a 

better  nor  a  finer  anywhere  in  the  country. 

Ah,  you  should  have  seen  him  in  his  day! 


Partletts'  at  Peace  311 

Yes,"  with  that  same  peculiar  something  in 
the  tone  more  marked  than  ever,  "  that's  our 
old  woman  and  her  dog!  " 

And  then,  walking  on,  without  a  doubt  you 
would  come  upon  a  tall  man  with  clear,  well- 
chiselled  features,  erect,  but  with  hair  very 
grey  at  the  temples,  and  fine,  dark  eyes; 
and  by  his  side  a  youth  with  those  same  fine, 
dark  eyes,  and  by  the  way  in  which  they  walk 
and  talk  together,  and  the  man  rests  his 
hand  upon  his  companion's  shoulder,  it  is  to 
be  seen  that  they  are  constant,  congenial 
companions. 

And  yet  beyond  you  will  see  the  Rectory, 
surrounded  by  blooming  shrubs  and  bright 
with  flowers,  and  lingering  near  the  gate  a 
girl  with  daffodil  hair  and  very,  very  blue 
eyes,  who,  should  you  be  bold  enough  to 
praise  her  garden,  will  nod,  and  reply : 

"  But  have  you  seen  the  one  on  the  hill? 
Oh  —  "  unconsciously  using  the  words  that 
another  had  used  years  before,  "  but  that 
is  a  garden!  "  And  her  young  voice,  how 
extremely  sweet!  And  what  a  look  of  sym- 


312  John  o'  Partletts' 

pathy  and  gentleness  passes  over  her  sensi- 
tive mouth  and  across  her  bright  blue  eyes 
as  she  lifts  her  glance  to  the  wood-topped 
ridge  that  stands  so  splendidly  gilded  in  the 
full,  flooding  sunshine. 

And  so,  as  the  yeare  pass,  Partletts'  and 
Partlettsville  lie  there,  side  by  side,  no  longer 
divided,  but  united  in  spirit.  For  human 
courage,  human  feeling,  human  daring,  have 
reached  down  from  the  hill  to  the  valley; 
and  human  sympathy,  human  understanding, 
human  gratitude  have  reached  up  from  the 
valley  to  the  hill-top. 

And  the  old  woman  up  there  has  entered 
into  a  serenity  which  the  great  world  has 
never  given  her,  —  could  never  give;  but 
which  she  has  found  at  last  in  this  little  cor- 
ner of  the  earth,  in  the  gratitude  and  under- 
standing of  those  about  her.  Perhaps  only 
through  some  obvious,  dramatic  occurrence, 
such  as  came  to  her  here,  could  her  strange 
nature  have  justified  itself. 

At  any  rate,  she  lives  at  peace  with  her- 
self, at  peace  with  those  about  her. 


Partletts'  at  Peace  313 

And  Partletts',  in  its  quietness,  its  wild 
beauty,  raising  its  fresb  crown  of  nature  up 
to  heaven,  has  redeemed  its  promise  of  peace 
to  a  striving  spirit! 


THE   END. 


PO  LLYANNA 


Eleanor  H.  Porter 


Author  of  "  Mis*  Billy,"  "  Mi»»  Billy's  Decision,"  etc. 


1 2 mo,  cloth  decorative,  illustrated,  net  $1.25;  postpaid  $1.40 


"  ENTER  Pollyanna!  She  is'the  daintiest,  dearest,  most 
irresistible  maid  you  have  met  in  all  your  journeyings  through 
Bookland.  And  you  forget  she  is  a  story  girl,  for  Pollyanna 
is  so  real  that  after  your  first  introduction  you  will  feel  the 
inner  circle  of  your  friends  has  admitted  a  new  member.  A 
brave,  winsome,  modern  American  girl,  Pollyanna  walks  into 
print  to  take  her  place  in  the  hearts  of  all  members  of  the 
family." 


Of  "  Miss  Billy  "  the  critics  have  written  as  follows: 

"  To  say  of  any  story  that  it  makes  the  reader's  heart  feel  warm  and 
happy  is  to  pay  it  praise  of  sorts,  undoubtedly.  Well,  that's  the  very  praise 
one  gives  '  Miss  Billy.'  "  —  Edwin  L.  S  human  in  the  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  The  story  is  delightful  and  as  for  Billy  herself  —  she's  all  right! "  — 
Philadelphia  Press. 

"There  is  a  fine  humor  in  the  book,  some  good  revelation  of  character 
and  plenty  of  romance  of  the  most  unusual  order."  —  The  Philadelphia 
Inquirer. 

"  There  is  something  altogether  fascinating  about  '  Miss  Billy,'  some 
inexplicable  feminine  characteristic  that  seems  to  demand  the  individual 
attention  of  the  reader  from  the  moment  we  open  the  book  until  we  reluc- 
tantly turn  the  last  page."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

"  The  book  is  a.  wholesome  story,  as  fresh  in  tone  as  it  is  graceful  in  ex- 
pression, and  one  may  predict  for  it  a  wide  audience."  — Philadelphia  Pub- 
lic Ledger. 

"  Miss  Billy  is  so  carefree,  so  original  and  charming,  that  she  lives  in  the 


THE    GOLDEN    ROAD 


L.  M.  Montgomery 


£8332 


Author  of ' '  Anne  of  Green  Cablet,  "  "  Anne  of  Aoonlea, ' ' 

"  Chronicles  of  Aoonlea,  "  "  The  Story  Girl,  " 

"  Kilmeny  of  the  Orchard,  "  etc. 

1 2 mo,  cloth  decorative,  with  frontispiece  in  full  color,  from  a 
painting  by  George  Gibbs.     5^et  $1.25  ;  postpaid  $1.40 

UNDER  the  guidance  of  Sara  Stanley,  that  fascinating 
"weaver  of  dream  stories,"  the  happy,  fun-loving  group 
introduced  by  Miss  Montgomery,  travel  down  "  the  golden 
road"  to  the  parting  of  ways  in  this  new  story.  Old 
friendships  are  renewed  with  the  simple  folk  of  Prince 
Edward  Island,  with  its  orchard-embowered  homes  and 
fertile  meadows  and  groves  of  spruce.  The  adventurings 
of  the  King  family,  as  chronicled  in  a  daily  newspaper, 
which  is  aided  and  abetted  by  the  heathen  Peter,  with  its 
headline  features  of  the  long-expected  romance  which  enters 
into  the  life  of  pretty  Aunt  Olivia,  the  return  of  a  prodigal, 
which  strangely  enough  causes  temporary  anguish  instead  of 
joy  to^one  childish  heart,  and  what  happens  to  the  Awkward 
Man,  will  give  delight  for  many  a  day  to  all  members  of  the 
family,  young  and  old. 

Miss  Montgomery  again  proves  that  she  is  a  distinct  aqui- 
sition  to  American  literature  and  entitled  to  a  place  of  honor 
as  the  writer  of  stories  which  "uplift  the  spirit  and  drive 
the  pessimist  into  bankruptcy." 


THE  CAREER  OF  DR.  WEAVER 


!By  Mrs.  Henry  W.  Backus 


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A  BIG  and  purposeful  story  interwoven  about  the  respon- 
sibilities and  problems  in  the  medical  profession  of  the  pres- 
ent day.  Dr.  Weaver,  a  noted  specialist,  and  head  of  a  private 
hospital,  had  allowed  himself  to  drift  away  from  the  stand- 
ards of  his  youth  in  his  desire  for  wealth  and  social  and  scien- 
tific prestige.  When  an  expose  of  the  methods  employed  by 
him  in  furthering  his  schemes  for  the  glorifying  of  the  name 
of  "  Weaver  "  in  the  medical  world  is  threatened,  it  is  frus- 
trated through  the  efforts  of  the  famous  doctor's  younger 
brother,  Dr.  Jim.  The  story  is  powerful  and  compelling, 
even  if  it  uncovers  the  problems  and  temptations  of  a  physi- 
cian's career.  Perhaps  the  most  important  character,  not 
even  excepting  Dr.  Weaver  and  Dr.  Jim,  is  "  The  Girl,"  who 
plays  such  an  important  part  in  the  lives  of  both  men. 


"The  ttory  becomes  one  of  thote  absorbing  tales  of  to-day  which  the 
reader  literally  devours  in  an  evening,  unwilling  to  leave  the  book  until  the 
last  page  is  reached,  and  constantly  alert,  through  the  skill  of  the  author,  in 
following  the  characters  through  the  twisted  ways  of  their  career."  —  Boston 
Journal. 

"  The  story  is  well-written,  unique,  quite  out  of  the  usual  order,  and  is  most 
captivating  "  —  Christian  Intelligenctr, 


THE    BLOSSOM    SHOP 


A  Story  of  the  South 


hla  May  J&ullin* 


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ONE  of  those  exquisitely  simple  and  appealing  stories  of 
mother  love  and  sacrifice  for  a  little  blind  daughter,  written 
in  a  delightful  vein,  combining  humor  and  pathos.  The 
reader  will  love  little  blind  Eugene  (the  child  had  received 
the  name  of  her  dead  father)  and  will  rejoice  with  the  brave 
young  mother,  the  heroine  of  the  story,  when  the  child's 
sight  is  restored.  There  is  a  time  for  rejoicing,  too,  when 
a  lost  will  is  found,  bringing  wealth  and  release  from  all 
worries,  and  the  young  mother  is  free  to  accept  the  love  and 
protection  that  in  her  sorrow  she  denied  herself. 

Southern  types  are  amusingly  contrasted  with  those  of  the 
North ;  and  the  simple  language  and  fine  sentiment  of  the 
story  will  charm  readers  of  all  ages. 


THE  HARBOR   MASTER 

Hfc  !By  Theodore  Goodridge  Roberts  Jp- 

Author  of  "  Comrades  of  the  Trails,"  "  Ray  ton  :    A  Backwoods 
Mystery,"   etc. 


1 2 mo,  cloth  decorative,  with  a  frontispiece  in  full  color  by  John 
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THE  scene  of  the  story  is  Newfoundland.  The  story  deals 
with  the  love  of  Black  Dennis  Nolan,  a  young  giant  and  self- 
appointed  skipper  of  the  little  fishing  hamlet  of  Chance  Along, 
for  Flora  Lockhart,  a  beautiful  professional  singer,  who  is 
rescued  by  Dennis  from  a  wreck  on  the  treacherous  coast  of 
Newfoundland,  when  on  her  way  from  England  to  the  United 
States.  The  story  is  a  strong  one  all  through,  with  a  mystery 
that  grips,  plenty  of  excitement  and  action,  and  the  author 
presents  life  in  the  open  in  all  its  strength  and  vigor.  Mr. 
Roberts  is  one  of  the  younger  writers  whom  the  critics  have 
been  watching  with  interest.  In  "  The  Harbor  Master  "  he 
has  surely  arrived. 

9 

Of  Mr.  Roberts'  previous  books  the  critics  have  written  as  fol- 
lows: 

"  The  action  is  always  swift  and  romantic  and  the  love  is  of  the  kind  that 
thrills  the  reader.  The  characters  are  admirably  drawn  and  the  reader  fol- 
lows with  deep  interest  the  adventures  of  the  two  young  people."  —  Balti- 
more Sun. 

"  Mr.  Roberts'  pen  has  lost  none  of  its  cunning,  while  his  style  is  easier 
and  breezier  than  ever."  —  Buffalo  Express. 

"  It  is  a  romance  of  clean,  warm-hearted  devotion  to  friends  and  duty. 
The  characters  are  admirable  each  in.his  own  or  her  own  way,  and  the  author 
has  made  each  fit  the  case  in  excellent  fashion."  —  Salt  Lake  City  Tribune. 

"  In  this  book  Mr.  Roberts  has  well  maintained  his  reputation  for  the 
vivid  coloring  of  his  descriptive  pictures,  which  are  full  of  stirring  action, 
and  in  which  love  and  fighting  hold  chief  place."  —  Boston  Times. 

"  Its  ease  of  style,  its  rapidity,  its  interest  from  page  to  page,  are  admi- 
rable; and  it  shows  that  inimitable  power  —  the  story-teller's  -gift  of  veri- 
similitude. Its  sureness  and  clearness  are  excellent,  and  its  portraiture  clear 
and  pleasing."  —  The  Reader. 


THE  WHAT-SHALL-I-DO  GIRL 


Or,  The  Career  of  Joy  Kent 


Isabel  Woodman  Waiit 


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WHEN  Joy  Kent  finds  herself  alone  in  the  world,  thrown 
on  her  own  resources,  after  the  death  of  her  father,  she  looks 
about  her,  as  do  so  many  young  girls,  fresh  from  the  public 
schools,  wondering  how  she  can  support  herself  and  earn  a 
place  in  the  great  business  world  about  her.  Still  wondering, 
she  sends  a  letter  to  a  number  of  girls  she  had  known  in  school 
days,  asking  that  each  one  tell  her  just  how  she  had  equipped 
herself  for  a  salary-earning  career,  and  once  equipped,  how 
she  had  found  it  possible  to  start  on  that  career.  In  reply 
come  letters  from  the  milliner,  the  stenographer,  the  librarian, 
the  salesgirl,  the  newspaper  woman,  the  teacher,  the  nurse, 
and  from  girls  who  had  adopted  all  sorts  of  vocations  as  a 
means  of  livelihood.  Real  riendly  girl  letters  they  are,  too, 
not  of  the  type  that  preach,  but  of  the  kind  which  give  sound 
and  helpful  advice  in  a  bright  and  interesting  manner.  Of 
course  there  is  a  splendid  young  man  who  also  gives  advice. 
Any  "  What-shall-I-do  "  young  girl  can  read  of  the  careers 
suggested  for  Joy  Kent  with  profit  and  pleasure,  and,  perhaps, 
with  surprise! 


Selections  from 
L.  C.  Page  and  Company's 
List  of  Fiction 


WORKS  OF 

ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS 

Each  one  vol.,  library  I2mo,  doth  decorative         .        .      $1.50 

THE  FLIGHT  OF  GEORGIANA 

A  ROMANCE  OP  THE  DAYS  OP  THE  YOUNG  PRETENDER,  Illus- 
trated by  H.  C.  Edwards. 

"  A  love-story  in  the  highest  degree,  a  dashing  story,  and  a  re- 
markably well  finished  piece  of  work."  —  Chicago  Record-Herald. 

THE  BRIGHT  FACE  OF  DANGER 

Being  an  account  of  some  adventures  of  Henri  de  Launay,  son 
of  the  Sieur  de  la  Tournoire.  Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards. 
"  Mr.  Stephens  has  fairly  outdone  himself.  We  thank  him 

heartily.    The  story  is  nothing  if  not  spirited  and  entertaining, 

rational  and  convincing."  —  Boston  Transcript. 

THE  MYSTERY  OF  MURRAY  DAVENPORT 

(40th  thousand.) 

"  This  is  easily  the  best  thing  that  Mr.  Stephens  has  yet  done. 
Those  familiar  with  his  other  novels  can  best  judge  the  measure 
of  this  praise,  which  is  generous."  —  Buffalo  Neiua. 

CAPTAIN  RAVENSHAW 

OR,  THE  MAID  OF  CHEAPSIDE.  (52d  thousand.?  A  romance 
of  Elizabethan  London.  Illustrations  by  Howard  Pyle  and 
other  artists. 

Not  since  the  absorbing  adventures  of  D'Artaguan  have  we  had 
anything  so  good  in  the  blended  vein  of  romance  and  comedy. 

THE  CONTINENTAL  DRAGOON 

A  ROMANCE  OP  PHILIPSE   MANOR  HOUSE   IN  1778.     (53d 
thousand.)    Illustrated  by  H.  C.  Edwards 
A  stirring  romance  of  the  Revolution,  with  its  scenes  laid  on 
oeutral  territory. 


L.  C.  PAGE  6-  COMPANY'S 


PHILIP  WINWOOD 

(70th  thousand.)  A  Sketch  of  the  Domestic  History  of  an 
American  Captain  in  the  War  of  Independence,  embracing 
events  that  occurred  between  and  during  the  years  1763  and 
1785  in  New  York  and  London.  Illustrated  by  E.  W.  D. 
Hamilton. 

AN  ENEMY  TO  THE  KING 

(70th  thousand.)    Illustrated  by  H.  De  M.  Young. 

An  historical  romance  of  the  sixteenth  century,  describing  the 
adventures  of  a  young  French  nobleman  at  the  court  of  Henry 
III.,  and  on  the  field  with  Henry  IV. 

THE  ROAD  TO  PARIS 

A  STORY  OP  ADVENTURE.  (35th  thousand.)  Illustrated  by 
H.  C.  Edwards. 

An  historical  romance  of  the  eighteenth  century,  being  an 
account  of  the  life  of  an  American  gentleman  adventurer. 

A  GENTLEMAN  PLAYER 

His  ADVENTURES  ON  A  SECRET  MISSION  FOR  QUEEN  ELIZA- 
TBETH.     (48th  thousand.)     Illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 
The  story  of  a  young  gentleman  who  joins  Shakespeare's 
company  of  players,  and  becomes  a  protege  of  the  great  poet. 

CLEMENTINA'S  HIGHWAYMAN 

Illustrated  by  A.  Everhart. 

The  story  is  laid  in  the  mid-Georgian  period.  It  is  a  dashing, 
sparkling,  vivacious  comedy. 

TALES  FROM  BOHEMIA 

Illustrated  by  Wallace  Goldsmith. 

These  bright  and  clever  tales  deal  with  people  of  the  theatre  and 
odd  characters  in  other  walks  of  life  which  fringe  on  Bohemia. 

A  SOLDIER  OF  VALLEY  FORGE 

By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS  AND  THEODORE  GOODRIDQE 
ROBERTS. 

With  frontispiece  by  Frank  T.  Merrill. 

"  The  plot  shows  invention  and  is  developed  with  originality, 
and  there  is  incident  in  abundance."  —  Brooklyn  Times. 

THE  SWORD  OF  BUSSY 

By  ROBERT  NEILSON  STEPHENS  AND  HERMAN  NICKERSON. 

With  frontispiece  by  Edmund  H.   Garrett. 

Net,  $1.25;  postpaid,  $1.40 

"  The  plot  is  lively,  dashing  and  fascinating,  the  very  kind 
of  a  story  that  one  does  not  want  to  stop  reading  until  it  is 
finished."  —  Boston  Herald. 


LIST  OF  FICTION 


WORKS  OF 

ELEANOR  H.  PORTER 

MISS  BILLY 

Cloth  decorative,  with  frontispiece  in  full  color  from  a  painting 

by  Griswold  Tyng     . $1.50 

"  There  is  a  fine  humor  in  the  book,  some  good  revelation 

of  character  and  plenty  of  romance  of  an  unusual  order."  — 

The  Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"It  is  a  tale  with  many  amusing  situations  and  a  pretty 

romance  which  endears  Billy  to  the  heart  of  the  reader."  — 

Marine   Journal. 

MISS  BILLY'S  DECISION 

(A  SEQUEL  TO  "  Miss  BILLY.") 

Cloth  decorative,  with  frontispiece  in  full  color  from  a  paint- 
ing by  Henry  W.  Moore     .       .      Net,  $1.25;   postpaid,  $1.40 
"  A  sequel  to  the  delightful  '  Miss  Billy,'  and  a  sequel  happily 
to  be  sought,"  says  the  New  York  World.    "  Thoroughly  read- 
able and  as  clean  and  sweet  as  a  day  in  June." 

WORKS  OF 

CHARLES  FELTON  PIDGIN 

THE  CHRONICLES  OF  QUINCY  ADAMS  SAWYER, 
DETECTIVE 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Harold  J.  Cue. 

Net,  $1.25;    postpaid,  $1.40 

'  The  author  is  to  be  complimented  not  only  upon  the  clev- 
erness of  his  plots,  but  upon  the  skill  with  which  he  constructs 
and  clears  away  mysteries,  and  the  power  he  possesses  to  attract 
interest  and  maintain  it  unflaggingly  to  the  end."  —  Boston 
Globe. 

THE  FURTHER  ADVENTURES  OF  QUINCY 
ADAMS  SAWYER  AND  MASON'S  CORNER 
FOLKS 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Henry  Roth  '  .       .     $1.50 
"  The  book  is  intensely  human,  bright,  witty,  hopeful,  kindly, 
and  interesting."  —  Christian  Endeavor  World. 

STEPHEN  HOLTON 

Cloth  decorative,  illustrated  by  Frank  T.  Merrill        .     $1.50 
"  New  England's  common  life  seems  a  favorite  material  for 

this  sterling  author,  who,  in  this  particular  instance,  mixes  his 

colors  with  masterly  skill."  —  Boston  Globe. 


L.    C.   PAGE   <&-   COMPANY'S 


WORKS  OF 

L  M.  MONTGOMERY 

ANNE  OF  GREEN  GABLES 

Illustrated  by  M.  A.  and  W.  A.  J.  Claus.    12mo        .     $1.50 
"  Anne  of  Green  Gables  "  is  beyond  question  the  most  popu- 
lar girl  heroine  in  recent  years.     Poets,  statesmen,  humorists, 
critics,  and  the  great  public  have  lost  their  hearts  to  the  charm- 
ing Anne. 

"  In  '  Anne  of  Green  Gables  '  you  will  find  the  dearest  and 
most  moving  and  delightful  child  since  the  immortal  Alice." 
—  Mark  Twain  in  a  letter  to  Francis  Wilson. 

ANNE  OF  AVONLEA 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs.    12mo      .       .       .       .     $1.50 

In  this  volume  Anne  is  as  fascinating  as  ever,  and  the  author 
has  introduced  several  new  characters. 

"  Here  we  have  a  book  as  human  as  '  David  Harum,'  a  hero- 
ine who  outcharms  a  dozen  princesses  of  fiction,  and  reminds 
you  of  some  sweet  girl  you  know,  or  knew  back  in  the  days 
when  the  world  was  young."  —  San  Francisco  Bulletin. 

"  A  book  to  lift  the  spirit  and  send  the  pessimist  into  bank- 
ruptcy! "  —  Meredith  Nicholson. 

CHRONICLES  OF  AVONLEA 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs.  12mo.  Net,  $1.25;  postpaid,  $1.40 
"  The  author  shows  a  wonderful  knowledge  of  humanity, 
great  insight  and  warm-heartedness  in  the  manner  in  which 
some  of  the  scenes  are  treated,  and  the  sympathetic  way  the 
gentle  peculiarities  of  the  characters  are  brought  out."  — 
Baltimore  Sun. 

THE  STORY  GIRL 

Illustrated  by  George.  Gibbs.    12mo       ....     $1.50 
"  A  book  that  holds  one's  interest  and  keeps  a  kindly  smile 
upon  one's  lips  and  in  one's  heart  as  well."  —  Chicago  Inter- 
Ocean. 

"  The  book  is  full  of  sprightly  humor,  the  quaint  conceits 
and  the  genuine  understanding  of  youth,  which  mark  so  ex- 
cellently the  various  chronicles  of  ANNE."  —  New  York  World. 

KILMENY  OF  THE  ORCHARD 

Illustrated  by  George  Gibbs.    12mo  I    .       .       .        .     $1.50 
"  A  story  born  in  the  heart  of  Arcadia  and  brimful  of  the 

sweet  and  simple  life  of  the  primitive  environment."  —  Boston 

Herald. 


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